Radiant Darkness
by PushTheButtton
Summary: "He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, he can see it in visuals blurring the lines in his mind. All it'd take is a split second to silently step in her direction and fulfill that temporary itch." An inevitable situation and its blinding ramifications. Angst/Drama/Romance. Season 12.
1. Chapter 1

**Radiant Darkness**

The pounding in his chest intensifies when he pushes the door closed behind him.

His throat is dry and his palms are moist and warm as his body internally surges with desperate electricity. The veins throughout his body constrict with each breath. The oxygen replenishing his lungs is the only sign that he's still breathing because his limbs feel unsteady.

It's as if he's wading through a thick pool of apprehension, feeling his feet propel him forward as he squints through the darkness.

The soles of his black dress shoes click softly against the hardwood floor of the quiet apartment, silence otherwise surrounding him as his breaths come out as noiseless wisps between his slightly parted lips.

Swallowing, he slowly, tentatively takes his suit jacket off and lays it on the back of her sofa in the center of the room. In the gloom of night, a gold-silver tinge of light from the outside street lamp seeps across the corner cushion of the piece of furniture.

His tired, thick eyebrows scrunch together as he thinks about his night, thinks about all the things that made him come back here again tonight. The arguing, the accusations.

He could just simply walk over and lay down on the sofa until the first rays of dawn appear through the shear curtain. He could easily unbutton his white work shirt and settle in against the plush cushions. He could untie his shoes and sit them next to her mahogany coffee table and set his cell phone alarm clock for the morning. He could. He could do just that.

All he has to do is just settle into her couch and stare at the sandpaper ceiling until the burnt orange aura of dawn peers through the living room window. But, something is pulling him in a different direction tonight.

It's been a week.

It's been a week since he's been coming to her on these nights. On nights where she vacates her desk earlier than he does his and leaves her apartment unchained so he can slumber against the soft pillows that smell like her lavender and lilac conditioner.

It's been a week since she first opened the door for him at one in the morning after he'd left home in a fit of anger. One week since he'd broken a personal rule against leaning on another person. A rule that forbid any reason to lean on her, especially her.

Of course she knows nothing of this, but it's true.

She keeps the chain unhooked, he guesses, because she's expecting to find him on her sofa in the morning, only hinting that he should go back home, but he doesn't and she doesn't fight him. He thinks she's starting to expect him now as each night turns into a pattern and he hopes that she waits for him..

Because there's nowhere else he'd rather be when he's feeling like he's never really known what his life's about.

Her bedroom door is closed and he knows he should put that jacket on and turn around but he shudders instead. Clenching his eyes shut, he rubs his palms on his black suit pants and walks languidly towards her room.

A soft silver glow escapes the slit from underneath her door and he wonders if she's awake on the other side, if she waits to hear the creak of the front door open as he slips in letting their naiveté slip out.

He doesn't know where his reasoning has gone tonight. It must have slowly dissolved into the glittered-moonlight that first night he'd shown up and seen her silhouette against her living room window.

She'd been adorned in a black dress and heels with her hair pinned neatly against her head and the redness in her eyes had stolen the breath from his chest.

Only moments before that, he'd been caught up with his own life, but upon seeing her, he'd been taken back by the visceral emotion leaping from her eyes like a kaleidoscope using the shades of brown in her eyes as its home. At that moment, even with everything going on in their lives, he'd known he'd be coming back the next night.

She'd been on a date. It had only been two weeks since it had happened. The child she'd come to love had been taken from her. The child that had been put in her care, that had taken a place in her heart and then was gone. It was was clear that place inside of her was now achingly empty.

He'd seen the flicker of light in her eyes dim to a low burn of anguish. It was there and that night while she was dressed like a Greek goddess in an attempt to move forward, he could see that she wasn't happy. She'd gone out and come home alone. He'd been silently relieved about that fact, especially when he'd walked inside her apartment that night realizing she'd been out with another man.

Now, as he stands still outside of her bedroom door, he contemplates raising his thick fingers and wrapping them around the silver knob.

Leaning his head forward, he closes his eyes and turns his ear listening for life on the other side. He knows she's home, she'd left the chain unlocked for him again opting for him to use his spare key to gain entry inside.

He hears nothing but the low hum of her bedside clock in the near distance. The sheets don't ruffle, the bed doesn't creak from the weight of her body shifting, and the way she breathes softly out of her mouth after taking a deep breath doesn't sound through the current of air seeping underneath her door.

Taking a deep breath of his own, he swallows and raises his hand to the door knob and grips the cool cylindrical object in his palm. Closing his eyes, he sees her through the wood of the door as she rests on her back, an arm above her head and the other draped over her chest in a comfortable rest.

He envisions the peacefulness in her features as opposed to the despair he soaks in during the day at the station, or the night he first came here looking for a token of peace.

The hours of reverie with a woman who had always been a quiet wanderer, nurturer to the unfortunate, and independent lover should have given him the knowledge that he'd find that peace with her, but he'd never allowed himself to get that close because of fear.

Fear of what she could bring out of him.

He loses himself in the hope she silently offers. She makes him lose that pang of dread in his heart when he thinks of all he'd done wrong and magnifies all he's done right.

In the lines of her dark eyes, skin, hair, her exuberance permeates his senses and everything he's ever known vanishes from his mind. He's a man of religion, family, faith, even to her and that's why the darkness around him offers a reprieve from what's flowing through his mind.

He gently turns the knob and the door creaks open with a soft moan. He releases a huff of air as he watches the scene before him. He feels like an intruder on her serenity. She's sleeping in her bed where she belongs and he's in her space taking in what isn't his.

He watches as her breasts rise and fall underneath a solid white tank top. Her nipples peak up underneath the material, more pronounced each time her chest rises against the fabric. With her head propped on the pillow, her dark brown hair fans out across the pillow case, framing the olive skin of her face.

It's been a week he keeps repeating in his mind. He doesn't know what he expects that to mean. It's been a week of staying up late with her in her living room, falling asleep next to her, sharing a blanket with her until she goes to her room, slumbering on her sofa until the next morning, and then during the day, anticipating the next time he breathes in her scent.

It's been a week, and thirteen years.

Slowly, sleepily, he inches his body closer to the end of her bed and continues to watch her sleep under the heavy silk comforter. The material of her tank top stops just above her waist revealing ample skin around her hips, the blanket resting just below the strings of her sleep pants. He sighs.

He's never been one to forget who he truly is. To forget what's made him who he is, who he's become. But the portrait before him gives him new meaning. Each time he looks at her, he fights the urge to restructure his whole mantra.

Deny, deny, deny.

He doesn't know why all of the sudden he can't contain the feeling that he'll explode if she goes out with another man one more time. He can't explain the feeling that he'll combust if he watches her exude beauty for someone else to admire.

All he knows is that since that day, that day he'd told her it was her call, he'd relinquished all control, all his faith in that one decision to put her first instead of the job and now he's fighting the urge to let her have all control over him, not just to let the control go as he'd done before , but to purposely give it to her.

It's an urge that's always been there. The urge to forget his past and base his life on the past thirteen years. She's always been there it feels like and sometimes he wonders if he's ever truly lived.

It takes him a moment to discern what he's feeling now.

Grateful, hopeful.

Love.

Fear.

He takes a deep breath and finally kicks off his dress shoes and toes them to the other side of her night stand. Watching her sleep is like watching a apparition formulate all the answers for the future.

In his mind, in his heart, she is the answer.

Taking the top of the blanket and pulling it down, he quietly slips under not contemplating what she'll do, but rather what she'll feel like as his body conforms to hers.

The mattress dips under his weight and the heat from her body immediately floods against his skin. Undeterred from her dreams, she silently turns over, her back facing him and her body curling into itself.

He leans closer and breathes her in. Her hair smells like flowers.

Her body contorts and spasms but she never wakes and he swallows back the bile rising in his throat.

He's in bed with his partner. He's in bed with his beautiful partner and he can't see anything wrong with it. He doesn't know when his faith and religion weren't enough to keep him righteous.

Heartbeats later, he turns on his side and lays his head on the pillow behind hers. His nose buries in the soft waves of her hair and he closes his eyes. He's so enamored with the scent of her that he doesn't realize his body is molding to the back of hers as he slowly moves closer.

His rough hand hovers above her hip and glides up her side until it's only centimeters away from the smooth skin of her shoulder. Closing his eyes, he wonders how she feels when inhibited, if her muscles tense under pressure, if she shivers from skin to skin contact, if she'll sense anything he's doing.

He leans his chest back slightly, reaches down to unbutton his work shirt, letting it fall open against the solid expanse of his chest. The crisp cool air filtering around her apartment sends a chill across his skin and he realizes he's been holding his breath.

As he looks down he sees her skin prickle with rows of goosebumps and his heart starts to pound underneath his white undershirt.

He leans his head down again and softly nuzzles his face into the back of her hair. His body contorts to fit against hers and his hips find the small of her back as he softly presses himself against her warmth.

With one arm under his head and the other at his side, he swallows as he lifts his hand and lightly skims her arm with his fingernails, feeling the smoothness and smelling the inviting, intoxicating wave of just her scent once more. He breathes in deeply as he lifts his head and lets the stands of her hair glide over his parted lips.

He's lost. So lost in her that he doesn't realize immediately that his hand is on her waist. The warmth of her skin seeps into his palm as he lightly grasps her hip, letting his lips fall to the crook of her neck.

He rests his cheek on her neck and closes his eyes. Slowly he lowers his hand from her hip and runs his fingers down her thigh as he scoots insurmountably closer to her. Running his hand up and down the infinite expanse of her blanket covered leg, he slowly pushes the material further down, the action only revealing an endless desire to feel her against him.

He breathes in shallow pants against her neck and he hasn't bothered to check if she's awake but he doesn't care. He needs to feel her beneath his hands, he needs to understand the feel of her against him because what's the answer if you don't understand process of getting to the solution?

He opens his eyes and glances at her face, his heart beat quickening as he watches her eyes move underneath her closed eye lids.

The arm underneath his head props his upper body as he leans over her from behind, his body spooning hers as he continues to let his free hand roam her body in an unrelenting desire to feel her, understand her.

Eventually, he runs his hand up and down her exposed skin. Then slowly, he moves his palm to the front of her stomach and lets the tips of his fingers graze the underside of her tank top.

That's when he feels it, the gasp.

tbc.

**A/N: This is a repost from SVUfiction as well. This is definitely on the darker side and I hope everyone enjoys the ride. :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This continues exactly where the last chapter left off. The story is complete and has 8 chapters. Enjoy. ;)**

It's barely there but he knows she's awake. Tentatively, he pulls his hand back over her side, pressing his thick fingers into her back, massaging the tense muscles.

His fingers glide effortlessly across her soft skin and press down in places he guesses ache like his do. He presses down in wonderment that he's touching her this way and that it doesn't feel at all strange, that it doesn't feel unfamiliar.

Swallowing, he brings his hand up and runs his palm across her upper arm, trailing his calloused hand over her neck and into her silky hair. As he runs his fingers through the delicate strands, he breathes deeply, staring at the side of her face, noticing the slight part in her lips he's not sure was there only moments before.

Suddenly he can feel her body move in front of him as she wraps her free arm behind her, hooking her arm around their combined bodies.

His breath catches as he realizes what she's doing. He'd expected her to be apprehensive, shocked, upset but he watches as her long, slender finger wrap around his hip, pulling his lower body closer to hers.

With his chest pressed firmly against her back, he lowers his mouth once again and presses his lips against her shoulder. His lips then skim across her skin, trailing upwards, they find the area just below her hair line. He lets his mouth press a deep kiss into the heated area and he sighs, letting his hot breath hit her intensely.

He feels her shiver and her arm retract from his body, as it moves up his side and over his face still pressed into her neck. Her pliant fingers slightly dig into his cheek as he just barely opens his lips against the column of her neck. Fuck butterflies, his insides do flip flops when he sees her mouth open and exhale in pleasure, her eyes remaining closed.

He feels his insides then turn to liquid and he once again moves his body against hers, trying like hell to close that indiscernible gap he feels is still there.

He lets go of her completely after that and leans back, letting her fall gently onto her back. Swallowing hard, he tries to discern the look in her eyes, the hooded gaze he receives from behind the dark brown mirrors producing the same reflection he thinks is in his own eyes.

She squints a bit from sleep and her arms rest beside her head bent at the elbows as she pants slightly. Then blinking slowly, she reaches up to run her right palm down his still clothed arm. Her eyes watch her hand lazily as she brings it to rest beside her again.

He thinks he knows what she's doing. Trying to see if he's real. He thinks he'd done the same thing earlier only to become too lost within her heat to really care. His eyes droop as her lazy voice filters in between their bodies.

"Am I dreaming?" She simply asks.

He swallows and blinks slowly as he reaches up to brush the hair away from her eyes. Then, shaking his head, he licks his lips and rests his palm on her thigh.

"I don't know what this is," he whispers honestly.

She blinks and nods before lying back completely, closing her eyes and lifting her hips as she kicks the blankets from her body.

"It's warm in here," she murmurs with half closed eyes.

He laughs softly. If only she knew how warm he was from just touching her.

He wonders what she's thinking, what she's feeling. He swallows nervously as he reaches for her again and sees her beautiful face stay calm as he touches her exposed abdomen with the back of his hand.

"It is." He continues to graze his knuckles across her stomach and still she doesn't flinch, instead lifting her arms above her head and resting them on the pillow beside her head. His heart pounds once again as he takes her repositioning as an invitation to explore even more.

He lowers his lips to her skin and lets his lips skim across the smooth expanse. As he trails upwards, he glances at her and watches her watch him with hooded eyes and slightly parted lips as her breaths become more labored.

"Why?" she whispers into the night. He blinks slowly and stops briefly before leaning over her, bring his chest level to hers.

"Why what?" he breathes out just as softly.

"Why now?" she asks, her voice more uneven than before.

He tries to think of a reason. He tries to think of anything to make her understand. Why now? He asks himself the same thing. He doesn't know. He does know that it should feel wrong to want her but it doesn't.

Shaking his head, he leans down until he's inches from her face and her eyes widen slightly.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "I have no idea, it just feels right," he breathes against her cheek. "Why don't you stop me?" he asks in a breathy whisper, swallowing down his pride if she were to end this before it even begins.

She turns her head and locks eyes with him. "I don't know," she answers back with weary eyes, he face contorted with worry.

Leaning down even more, he presses his cheek to hers and rubs up and down, feeling her hand comes to rest on the back of his neck. "Do you feel it?" he asks as he moves his face a few inches in front of hers.

She timidly nods her head and he can see the way she swallows thickly and how her eyes dance in the dim lighting with anticipation. As she rubs the back of his neck with her slender fingers, he thinks he finally knows where he stands. With slightly parted lips, she squints her eyes again and lowers her back against the pillows once more, staring up at him with those beautiful, puppy dog eyes he thinks are going to cause him many restless nights.

Trying to control himself and read her at the same time, he looks down and her expression is expectant. If he's learned anything about her over the years, he's learned how to read the little tells in her features when she looks at him. She tells him now. Tells him it's his call finally. For him to make the next move. He freezes for a brief moment when he recognizes their position, their situation, the space, time, moment.

He reminds himself he's in her bed and she hasn't kicked him out and he wants to revel in her body heat until he feels numb.

Then something eases the tension within him a little and silently, deliberately, he locks eyes with her and starts to maneuver his body over hers, maneuvering as close as possible so he can feel every inch of her against him.

He feels the need to explore this while he has the chance, while he's feeling so bold. He hovers over her, his thick, muscular thighs, bent at the knees, resting right outside of her legs as he straddles her.

He looks down at her face and sees she's looking at his body over hers and how his arms are planted beside her hips. His head hangs between his shoulders as he takes in the enormity of his actions.

If he goes any further, he's committing something he never thought possible. He feels her move beneath him and her outer thighs press into his inner, causing his body to react.

As it does, he sees her chest rise and fall rapidly as the moments of motionless activity increase. Slowly, he crawls higher on his knees until his face is directly above hers. Licking his lower lip, he balances his weight on his left arm and uses the other to cup her cheek as she looks up at him with glossy eyes.

Without words, he leans down and presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, letting his lips linger. After a few moments, he opens his mouth and french kisses the corner of her lips, letting his tongue trace and lick it's way down the side of her mouth.

He watches her gasp and her chest rise as she sucks in a rush of air. Her eyes train on his face as he looks down at her neck and then her chest and then breasts and stomach. He then feels her hands rise off the bed and cup his sides right beneath his arm pits.

Leaning his head down, he rests his right temple on her upper chest, and then lowers his hips. Gently, he lifts his left leg inward and drags his knee across her bare leg until it's in between hers. Silently, eagerly, he looks for her eyes as he pries open her thighs with his own.

He watches her grip him tighter and her eyes slip closed before he uses his other thigh to part her legs the rest of the way. As his right knee nudges her left knee to the side, it allows him to crawl his way up her body and nestle against the crook of her thighs.

His waist aligns with hers and he feels like he's going to faint from the way his body conforms to the ridges of her body perfectly. He rests his palms on the sheet beneath her head and lets his stomach fall against hers.

He leans his head down and touches his nose to hers briefly before pulling back as she opens her eyes. She's staring back at him and he wonders what the hell is going through her mind because he has no idea what's even going on in his own. All he knows is that this feels unbelievably right. He's never felt this much intensity from a single action.

The dimness of the room allows little visibility but he can just barely see her though the dark and he realizes they're both completely still. If it wasn't for the whites of her eyes, he'd be completely lost in the dark and feel of her body beneath his.

Adjusting his weight, he grinds his lower body against hers and a soft moan escapes her lips. He quickly looks up, not believing she just made that sound because of him.

His body pulses with desire and love. He clenches his eyes closed and wills himself not to do what he really wants to do. But watching her breathe in aroused puffs below him, he loses the battle.

He plants his arms underneath her armpits and lowers his face to hers, lightly, tepidly, kissing her. His lips graze hers at first and then he feels her nails in his back as she pulls him down onto her.

He loses all control then. He pulls his body up slightly so he can continue kissing her as he grinds his lower body into hers once again causing her to rip her lips off his and make a sound he's never quite heard before.

It's somewhere in between a moan, a whimper and a groan of satisfaction. Even if he wasn't hard already, he'd be dying just from the way that sound went straight to his groin.

Leaning his forehead onto hers again, he grazes her lips before planting his arms more firmly and rocking his length against her once again, starting a smooth rhythm between their lower bodies. He feels like a spark is igniting and burning out every time his erection hits her sweet spot and it feels like flying.

Only after a few gentle thrusts in between her legs, he feels like he is dying. The pleasure of touching his body against hers in this way feels like he is fucking dying, and he's in heaven because the way she feels is unexplainable.

He reaches down and arches her legs, pulling her down the bed so that she's directly beneath him as he kneels before her. With her legs hooked around his behind, he plants his arms right above her shoulders and kisses her.

She complies, doesn't protest his actions, just lets him do what he pleases and god dammit, this isn't like her to just let anyone do what they want with her. But, she's letting him move her around the bed, touch her and she's not protesting. He takes that as a free pass to grind against her again.

When his erection drags along her clothed clit again, she cries out loudly into the night as he rocks his body against hers hard and unceremoniously until he feels the pleasure almost sting. She bucks against him with each thrust of his hips. He looks down and her head is turned to the side as she looks down at his relentless hips.

"Oh God," she whimpers into the dark abyss of her bedroom. The bed creaks and moans under both of their bodies as he bows his head down and rest his forehead on her shoulder, continuously rocking back and forth. The pure pleasure through both of their clothes is apparent just as he feels her thighs start to clamp around his broad hip muscles.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he grounds out, the curses spilling into the night as he continues to thrust surreptitiously between her legs, listening to her whimper and claw at his back. His body starts to tense as he continues to press on just the right spot and he knows then his release isn't far away. And by the way his partner his purring and gripping the back of his dress shirt, he knows she's in the same boat. He wants her to come first.

Just as he's about to slow down his movements to prolong the feeling of being in between her legs, even through clothes, he feels her raise her arms around his neck and kiss his neck. It drives him wild as he sloppily slows down his thrusts and eventually stops, just barely preventing herself from exploding inside of his work pants.

He feels his face burning red from his arousal. Taking a deep breath, he leans down and cups her neck, moving her face towards his but she captures his lips before he has a chance to think. His tongue pushes through her lips as she reacts kissing him back passionately, arching her back and whimpering into his mouth.

Their mouths mold and devour the other and she continues to grip his neck with her hands. Freeing one of his own, he reaches down and starts to unbuckle his pants, hearing the metal clasp clank against his body as he works the button open.

He gently pulls away from her lips and sits up on his knees as he opens the fly to his pants. He then looks down at her, seeing her lips red and swollen even in the dimness of the room. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as he starts to reach for her tops of her sleep pants.

Running his palms down her sides and stopping his fingers right at the top of the material covering her lower half, he turns his fingers inward and runs them underneath the fabric, easing it down as he watches her eyes scan the ceiling of her room.

Suddenly, as he starts to bring the material down her hips, he feels her hand cover his, stopping his intention of moving this further.

"Wait," she starts. "No," she shakes her head. "We, we... can't. We can't do this," she begins to protest with wide eyes.

He feels his stomach drop. He stops mid motion, his jaw clenched and eyes bold as he stares at her aroused form panting below him. His heart clenches immediately knowing, just knowing she's going to regret everything they just did.

tbc.

. . .

**Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. I appreciate the reviews SO much. Here's the next installment. Not for the faint of heart. Kinda. ;)**

* * *

He releases his grip on her pants and drops his hands to his sides as he continues to kneel in front of her spread knees. "What?" he breathes out deeply and shakes his head as she scoots back against the headboard, pulling her pants back up over her hips as she does so. "I'm sorry," he apologizes feeling immediate guilt flood through his veins. How could he have misjudged this entirely. "I thought... " he trails off sitting back on his ass as his legs stick out in front of him.

She breathes heavily, moving to sit with her back pressed firmly against the headboard as she runs a hand through her hair. "I thought..." she trails off in a whimper. "What just happened?" she asks somberly.

She stares at him for long moments with a questioning gaze and all he can do his stare back, his breaths coming out in short, aroused pants. Shaking her head, she rubs the back of her neck and runs her hand through her hair once again, probably unable to comprehend the situation any better than he can.

But he figures he better comprehend it at some point since he just committed adultery with his partner.

He sighs and turns to sit on the edge of the bed. With his back toward her, he leans his elbows on his thighs and rest his head in his palms. "I'm sorry. I just..." he tries to think of the right words but they don't come. He doesn't know how to explain himself.

"I think you should leave," she pants in short breaths. "I think you need to go home... right now," her voice comes out husky, deflated. "I'm sorry too, but we both need time apart to think about this."

He nods and starts to stand but an overwhelming feeling hits him. He freezes mid motion but he can still feel the tension rolling off of her and he doesn't want to leave her this way. He's afraid of what she'll do if he leaves without saying anything.

He turns back to face her with his chest full of dread. Their eyes meet and what's in her gaze sends chills down his spine.

He sees a soft orange glow emanating from her left; it's from the lamp he hadn't even noticed her turn on. He watches her try to calm down her breathing, but it doesn't look like it's doing much good as he turns back around to stare at her closed bedroom door before speaking again.

"I don't want this to change us," he whispers into the air. "This, doesn't have to... You stopped it. We didn't do anything," he reiterates with a tone that reveals how unfortunate he feels that is.

He knows he should feel like shit for what he'd initiated. He should feel guilt, but all he feels is worry. Worry that she's going to take this as her chance to get the hell away from him. And in the pit of his stomach, he's afraid of what that will do to them, him even if she doesn't leave. He can't let any of it happen.

She scoffs and starts to sit on the edge of the bed on her side. He hears her take a deep breath and move to stand at the end of the bed. Pressing her knees into the mattress, she plays with the end of the blanket as he turns to watch her. "That's a lie and you know it."

He furrows his eyebrows and turns to face her.

"What's a lie?" he asks confused, his face contorted in slight anger. "What's a lie?" he asks again, worry lining his voice.

She looks angrily at him as she prepares to fight. "It's a lie to say that what we just did wasn't anything," she retorts, her voice nasally from the moisture building up behind her eyes. "I didn't stop anything and now we're both something I never wanted," she pleads. "Dammit, what were you thinking?"

Immediately, he's standing and facing her. "What was I thinking? You sure as hell weren't fighting me off!"

"Like I had any idea you were going to change the boundaries between us while I was half asleep! I don't know what that was, what that whole act..." she stutters. "That wasn't you. I know you and that's... that's... GOD."

"Don't act like I'm the only one in the wrong."

"It doesn't matter if "I" wanted it! You should have known better. You know how wrong it is and you still did it. You know as well as I do that just walking through my bedroom door was a dangerous idea and you still did it and now look!"

"I don't know what to say! I was confused. It's not an excuse, but fuck, it felt right. I just needed you tonight. I just wanted to be near you." Suddenly, guilt eats at him but in a different way. Not because he'd just had dry sex with a woman that wasn't his wife, but because he hadn't made sure it was okay with her first. He is surely going to hell. "I couldn't help it," he whispers sadly. "I never would have .. I mean if I thought..." he tapers off.

She shakes her head and wraps her arms tightly around her middle as she rocks from side to side. "I don't understand. Why now? Of all the times to try and ..." she swallows, "You decide now you want to get into my pants?"

"It's not like that."

"What is it like then? You're married. You have a four year old son still at home you need to worry about. You need to make things right. I'm going to the bathroom."

He watches her start towards the bathroom and he all of a sudden can't shake the feeling that she's running away from him, from the situation just as he feared. "Wait, we need to talk about this."

"I'm not talking about anything," she replies calmly.

"Yea, and that's fair how? You were going to town as much as I was. You act like I forced my way onto you and you know I wouldn't," he forces out, and he knows he's playing with fire when he feels the anger and despair in the burning of his eyes as he faces her.

She whips around with a vicious glare. "Screw you! I didn't ask for..."

"You didn't stop me!"

He repeats her earlier words and she quiets, still breathing hard but her face softens. She rests her back against the wall and stares at him with a defiance that's slowly fading.

"I don't know what to say," she says shakily. "We did something wrong and I don't know how to handle it," she breathes out running a hand through her hair. "How do we talk about this?"

Taking a deep breath, he steps forward and lightly grasps her upper arms and she simply stares back at him with glossy brown eyes. Those goddamn glossy eyes that makes his knees weak. "I don't know... exactly. I just know, I can't leave here tonight after what ...what I just did and have you feeling like I betrayed you. I don't want you to run because of me. Not again."

Shaking her head, she looks up to him, swollen lips and all, and he still can't get over how beautiful she is even in the dimness of her bedroom and after the anger and fatigue flowing between them. "I shouldn't have reacted like I did. I shouldn't have led you on, I'm sorry. It wasn't right of me and you mean too much for me to...," she whispers as her voice catches, her eyes trained on his.

Feeling his heart constrict, he watches the unexplainable emotion flit across her face and he knows what she's doing. She's denying what she feels to save him. She's lying, she was in the moment just as much as he was and he's not going to let her get away with it because, it didn't... it just didn't feel wrong. "No..., I'm sorry. I was wrong to do it. I'm only human. I didn't mean to do it to hurt you," he whispers, his jaw clenching with apprehension.

"Yea, you are only human and you didn't mean what you did."

Jesus Christ, his savior, he still wants her. He wants her in way that will always have him clutching his crucifix tightly to his chest when he says his prayers at night next to his wife.

"What are you saying? How do you know what I meant to do?"

"I'm saying, that I was foolish and that if this is anyone's fault it was mine. I shouldn't have led you on. You had to think that I wanted you to if you came into my bedroom and got into bed with me expecting sex. I think that had to be me somewhere. Because I know you. I know that you don't do this. You don't go sneaking around on your wife. I know you're a faithful man to your family. It has to be me," she whispers, hitting her chest lightly with her closed fist. "I think you should go now. We'll talk about this, I promise," she stops abruptly with wide eyes and a hand planted on his chest. "Don't worry about it. We're good," she lies, the insincere words pouring out of her mouth.

She steps around him and opens her bedroom door. She turns to him expectantly and he realizes she wants him to leave her room. Leave.

His heart pounds against his chest because what is leaving going to do? What's it really going to do? Leaving sure as hell isn't going to fix what they just did. He can't fight her on this verbally, and leaving only means they'll both dwell on it all night.

So what is him leaving going to do to help the situation?

Nothing.

He starts toward the door but stops short of where she's standing as she holds the door open. Her head is bowed and she's biting her bottom lip.

Silently, he stands just beyond the threshold of her room waiting for her to look up at him. He just wants to see her eyes and decide what it is she feels so he can figure out what the hell he's going to do.

A few moments pass and she finally looks up at him with pretentious eyes. Her nostrils flare in resignation and she swallows thickly. He notices that she's not pushing him out but offering him an "out." She's offering him a chance to escape without any more damage but he can see the hesitation still in her features and if he's learned anything about her, he's learned that she knows as well as he that there's no coming back from even this. That they've been changed, their dynamic altered.

The way she'd writhed beneath him only moments before will haunt him forever.

Hesitantly, he steps in front of her and she meets his gaze halfway. He briefly catches a glimpse of the same darkness, glossiness that he had seen the moment he'd hovered his body over hers. But that look quickly changes to apprehension. But, that look, it was there, for just a second, but it was still there.

He has to know.

Swallowing, he reaches his rough fingers to her chin and tips her face up. Letting his hand fall away, he watches her gaze fall to his lips, then to his chest, an attempt at avoiding eye contact.

"I don't want to hurt you. Sometimes we do things we can't explain. This was one of those times. I just want you to know that I understand where you're coming from. Okay?"

She purses her lips and closes her eyes briefly before opening them again and raising her them to meet his finally. Her brown eyes are murky from the moisture waiting to escape. He knows this situation is severe but he doesn't want her to regret anything because it was him. It was just him needing to know her, have her and nothing was her fault, even though she let him take control.

Her voice slivers inside of him and causes his eyes to lock onto her lips as she dances around the topic.

"And, sometimes we can't help but hurt the one's we don't mean to. It doesn't take away from the fact that it was wrong. You do understand that right? I know how you felt. It was human instinct. I felt the same way."

He takes a deep breath. He also knows it was wrong, but that's not what he's concerned about. He's concerned she hadn't felt the same way about him as he did her, when he'd initiated what he had, that his self control was obliterated because of nothing. It makes him want to punch a hole in her wall out of frustration and leave a reminder that he was there and that he wasn't just trying to "get into her pants." His feelings are real and he can't help them. He also can't help the way his body responds to her.

It won't just go away if they decide to leave things unfinished after he leaves, leaving her time to formulate an escape mechanism.

"I know," he nods, his voice low and scratchy. "But this wasn't something that just ignited tonight. It's been there for a long time. That's something you should know. I wasn't taking anything out on you. What I feel goes deeper and you should know that. I could never be that callous to you or to anyone. What I feel is something more and that's what that was and I'm sorry about the way I went about it but it's true. I couldn't control myself but it wasn't because I wanted to take advantage, it was because it felt right. You feel right."

She takes a deep, shaky breath and then lets it out in a long, strenuous current, letting her chest deflate with the might. Turning her head away from him, she clenches her eyes tightly closed and then bows her head once more towards the floor.

After a few silent seconds tick by, she finally opens her eyes and takes a few steps into his direction. Looking into his eyes, she tentatively places her hands on his shoulders. "It happens. You spend time with someone for so long and the next thing you know, it feels like you've known them your whole life. You start to feel like no day can pass by without seeing them because, well, they're always there and that's fine. It's fine. I see what you mean. It feels right to be around them. It's routine and then you tell yourself it's normal to feel that way, it's normal to feel connected but in all reality, it's just habit. You don't really have to feel that way. Like they say, you tell yourself a lie enough times, you start to believe it. Maybe, maybe... that's what this is."

Immediately, he looks into her eyes and furrows his brows in frustration. Shaking his head in disagreement, he steps away from her a foot and places his clasped palms against the back of his neck.

"S'not a lie. What I feel isn't a lie. It's been there awhile. I won't deny it. I've had a hard time coming to terms with what was going on inside my heart but I've faced it now. That's why I'm here, that's why I came over tonight. It's why I ever do a goddamn thing! Because what that was earlier, it wasn't a lie. It's not based on anything other than a truth that has been buried deep within me for some time. And, I can't believe you're saying it's anything else when I've told you it's not."

She swallows again nervously and he can't help but wonder what the hell has her thinking anything he feels for her is a lie. It's ridiculous. He can't think of anything more absurd that's ever come out of her mouth until her next words.

"It's because for me it's a lie," she whispers. "I don't feel anything for you. I acted on instinct and now you're going to get hurt. I'm sorry," she says timidly, quietly and the goose bumps rise on his skin from the whispered untruths he knows are coming through her mouth. "That's how I see it... Like I said, I led you on. Now go home. Save something for yourself. It's not worth it," she whispers, emotion evident in her false revelations.

He swallows back the hurt in his throat and breathes harshly through his mouth, the shorts pants barely escaping before he's trying to drag enough air to breathe again.

It's not true, he knows it. After all these years, he knows what he's felt for her was brought on by the way she'd look at him. The way he could explain how she felt in moments by the look in her eyes, by the way she'd only let him see it for a split second before masking it all and comforting or reassuring him that he'd be okay.

He knows she feels something. The way she let him take control earlier. The way she'd placed her hands on him, kissed him, moaned against him, it's nothing he'd ever experienced with his wife. The reaction from her spelled the same relief he'd felt in finally having all of her and frustration in yet none of her at the same time.

"You're lying," he pushes out, his Brooklyn accent more than apparent. "You don't have to make up lies to save me. I'm an adult. I made my decisions, I acted on those decisions, I knew what I was doing. But DON'T lie and say I was the ONLY one who felt something. It might have been wrong, but I want you to know that I have feelings for you. That I want you in ways that aren't healthy for a man in my position. That anything I do is based on truths, not lies! I've spent time with you, yeah, but that time made a habit of me defining what the truth was. You know what the truth is?"

She blinks slowly and shakes her head negatively, then turning her eyes toward her messed up bed. "No," she mumbles. "It doesn't matter. I..." she hesitates,"It won't matter what you confess because I don't want you," she whispers tearfully. "I shouldn't have led you on. I shouldn't have told you, you could stay. I shouldn't have left the door unchained and just locked you out! It's my fault. So stop, stop what you're doing. PLEASE?"

Taken aback by her proclamation, he falls back a few feet staring at her in disbelief. "I don't believe you," he says quietly as he steps forward again, trying to get her to stop what she's doing. She doesn't have to guard him. He's a grown ass man. She's a grown woman, there's no use in trying to protect each other from harm when they see it everyday.

"I won't stop. But if you want me to leave, I will. But just because I walk out that door doesn't mean my feelings change. So, go ahead and use this as an excuse to finally get the hell out of dodge, to run away from anything we've ever felt. Because don't lie to me, I know why you left before."

"Go to hell. You don't know what you're talking about. I was seeing someone so you're wrong. It wasn't you. You bastard," she grates out, the octave of her voice fluctuating with each words. He know he's hit a nerve and that was his every intention. This can't end like this. They can't.

Standing directly in front of her, toe to toe, face to face, breaths hitting her squarely on her cheek, he leans in and releases a torrent of words.

"No, you go to hell," he seethes out in a harsh whisper. "I know you. Don't forget I'm the one who knows things about you that you'd rather I not." He steps into her even more and he feels her hands on his chest, pressing into his solid muscle, trying to push him away. He doesn't let up.

"I may be in the wrong here, but DON'T deny it. Don't act like I've been blind this whole time. I'm going out on a limb here, and you act like you've never once thought that there was something, just a little tiny sliver of something that made us more. You know I'm Catholic, you know I'm married, you know I have regrets and I saw that recognition in your eyes but you didn't stop me! You were in this with me, we were fighting it together so do NOT tell me you feel NOTHING!" he yells.

"Stop it!"

"No," he pushes his chest into her arms and she falls against the wall just inside of her bedroom door. "This is big. You may hate me after this, but I'm letting you know that this isn't a game for me. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop like everyone else," he breathes out as he leans into her, his face mere inches from hers.

Her eyes are wide and terrified. Not of him, he knows, but of his harsh truths. She's shaking with emotion he's not sure he's ever seen in her. He's not letting her get away with what she said. He's not letting her get away with telling him that their years together, their pains together, their bond, friendship, relationship was nothing but habit. He didn't come over here tonight out of habit.

It was because he was tired of fighting with himself.

"Tell me again you don't feel the same," he breathes into her space.

"It doesn't matter if I do," she replies with tears in her voice. "You should leave because you're only making it worse."

"What happens if I leave? What gets solved that way? I want you to look me in the eye and say that this isn't anything."

"You're married."

"I know," he says defeated. "I know that. I'm dying here. Can't you see that? I'm trying to figure out what to do," he says as he steps even closer to her, pressing her firmly against the wall.

Her palms press fervently into his chest, trying to create space neither really wants. "You need to stop," she expels in a rush of air. "You need to stop it before it's too late. Because if you don't, I will never be any good to you. Then what does that make me, other than what I already am? Huh?"

"We'll figure it out together," he whispers into her air, into her face and her bangs blow out of her eyes because they're so close.

"Leave," she orders weakly. "Now."

Her eyes are wide, bold and full of sadness but also of longing that she can no longer hide from him. She bites her lower lips and turns her head away from his and he can slowly feel the shift inside of her. It's screwed up, the whole situation is but he can't figure out a better place to clean it up than with her.

"Is that really what you want?"

She doesn't answer but keeps her head turned away from his while letting her palms that were planted firmly on his chest, graze his shirt as they fall to his sides. Her eyes are drooped low and she blinks slowly, sleepily and when he thinks she's not going to answer him, she surprises him by turning her round eyes back towards him, shaking her head.

"No," she whispers, her voice cracking.

With that simple answer he crashes his lips onto hers and she whimpers with the contact. His lips bruise hers with the powerful way his skin melds to her own, the pure heat she wills from him searing them together.

He lifts her up against the wall, pressing her into the stucco so hard he can feel the way her breaths become labored. "I know you," he whispers in her ear as he trails his hands down her body, pulling her flush against him as her arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

He runs his palms down her sides and fingers the fabric of her pants once more. Glancing up, he watching her mouth part and eyes close as his fingers glide inside her pants, slipping them down her hips and over her ass as he presses his chest into her plush breasts. Breathing hard, he rests his forehead against her shoulder and runs his calloused hands over the beautiful, soft, silky skin of her behind as he hoists her higher on the wall.

Then freeing one of his hands, he reaches for the zipper of his pants and lowers it, freeing his erection for the first time. He'd never had the chance to rebuckle his pants, for which, in this case, he gives thanks.

His eyes close as he silently fists his cock in his hands. He then feels her grip his neck like a vice with her arms, her head dropping to his shoulder and her breaths hitting his neck in soft wisps. It feels like he's in another time, another place. It doesn't feel like he's about to seal the deal on cheating on his wife of twenty plus years, it doesn't feel like he's about to fraternize with his partner of twelve years, it doesn't feel like he's about to change everything about them.

It's feels mind numbing. He wants to feel her around him. He wants to feel her warmth surround him.

He feels her legs tighten around his waist in anticipation and it makes him stop for a slight second. "You okay?"

She sniffles and then turns her head further into his neck and breathes deeply. "Mmm, no, but we're in so deep... I don't even care," she whispers into his shirt.

"I know the feeling," he mumbles into her shoulder and then, in one swift motion, he lowers her down onto him and he's inside of her. She whimpers loudly from his intrusion and he prays hard that she understand that this is it. She is it and that this is where he belongs, inside of her.

He's selfish, but he needs her and this feels like she's giving him peace. He thrusts his hips and buries his face in her neck and feels her dig her nails into his shoulder. Their bodies mold perfectly, she grips him perfectly and he shudders from the impact that that has on him emotionally.

With his pants down at his ankles and his partner pinned to the wall in front of him with her legs spread, it's the way she fits around him that makes his eyes finally water.

It's perfect and wrong all at the same time. The way she allows him to glide so effortlessly in and out and how he holds her in place, allows him to see clearly for the first time all night. It all comes down to them finally connecting in the way they were never allowed to explore before. He needs her, and it it hurts he's getting it this way but he realizes she must know the truth of the situation now because she's moaning his name in his ear and grinding her hips down onto his, giving in to what they've both felt for years.

When the blinding need to come spasms through his body, the realization of his helplessness becomes abundantly clear.

He'll be coming back tomorrow night as well.

tbc.

* * *

**Please feel free to let me know what you thought. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Several hours later, they lay in her bed, covered only with the white sheet, having kicked off the heavy comforter completely when he'd made love to her again only minutes after taking her on the wall.

He takes a few shorts breaths before reaching for her face and cupping her cheek with his palm.

"We may make mistakes along the way in life. "We" may make mistakes in this all but Jesus... what are we supposed to do?" he asks, his voice just above a whisper as his finger grazes her cheek. He knows it's not her fight, it's his, and he's bringing her down with him. She's his in ways he's never been allowed ever before and he can't see past the moment.

"I'm scared," she murmurs against his flesh as she turns her head into his palm. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone else and that's what's going to happen," she whispers as she leans away and burrows the side of her head into the pillow, staring back at him.

Lying face to face with her, on their sides, he realizes he doesn't want to talk about all the dark edges of what's to come out of this. All he sees is her, her warmth, her softness, her ability to make him escape and sigh in relief. He doesn't feel the sharpness in his chest yet, the guilt in his abdomen. The consequences.

"I'll end it," his words rush out as he cups her cheek more firmly and raises her eyes to meet hers. "I'll end it. I'll take care of it. Just... More than anyone, I know what this is doing to me, to you. This isn't me. You're right. It's not me by a long shot, but people change, they lose faith, they lose chances and that's what I can't do. I can't change the past but I can't lose this chance. You're what I have faith in and GOD forgive me for wanting to take that chance. I hope you understand," he pleads gruffly into the silent night.

The dim glow from the lamp barely lights the room but he can see her bottom lip tremble. He feels guilty for breaking her walls down in this way. Normally, she'd have built them harder and sturdier than ever before but he's thrown her for a loop. He knows she never expected him to do this to her.

He can tell she's fighting everything in her to tell him to leave, to get out and go to hell where he now belongs. He can see her internal struggle. But he can't live without her, she can't run or he won't be able to take it. He's selfish. He doesn't deny it. He imagines this is how affairs begin and operate.

He'll fix what he can when the time comes.

"I don't do this either," she whispers. "This isn't who we are. What makes you so sure this is worth it? We'll end up fighting and then it'll all end horribly wrong. I don't want that, I don't want it to end. Fuck, I don't know what's happening."

"No matter what happens..." he starts not knowing how to tell her he'd take a fucking bullet for her, he'd sacrifice himself for her life, he'd go to the ends of the earth to make her happy. But it's never been easy for them. His heart pounds in his chest as he watches her rub her eyes like a small child, scared of the things that go bump in the night for an entirely different reason. "This wasn't meant to be easy," he starts again. "This life wasn't meant to deal with so much in so little time. This life, this job... it takes so much out of you. S'okay to make mistakes."

A deafening silence overtakes them, and he can feel the vibrations of her breathing against the mattress they lay on. He skims his fingertips across the underside of her arm and sees the goosebumps rise on her arms. She looks at him from the corner of her eye with a skeptical expression but then it turns into something else.

In one easy movement, she rolls onto her side and wraps her arms around his neck, dragging her body closer to his under the sheets. With her leg hooked over his hip and the other knee placed firmly against his, she moves her lower body against him and he feels her arousal spread against his lower abdomen.

Sighing, he looks up and rubs a hand down her temple before and leanings in to capture her lips. "I've never wanted anyone more in my life. What's that say about me?"

He hears her swallow loudly and then lean her forehead against his. "It says that there's more to your life still," she answers simply. "Nothing's ever done in our lives and I've never understood you more than I do now. What does that say about me?"

She blinks a few times before leaning in and kissing him again and it's more heated this time. Her tongue slips out and slowly traces his bottom lip. If Nirvana is a place, he believes he's there with the sensation of her soft lips on his. She's like a barbiturate that only takes affect with her lips planted squarely on his.

He wraps his arms around her back, and pulls her bare breasts against his chest and then proceeds to trail his lips down the long column of her neck. Letting his tongue lave and suck on the soft skin and savor the taste that is purely her. Before either know it, he feels the warmth of her body as he slides inside of her again.

Facing her, brown to blue, pupil to pupil, he allows himself to move his hips against her, holding her tightly as she whimpers from the pleasure of being joined with him again. Her face contorts in ecstasy as she clings to him and he's never felt this way in his entire life, knowing that he clings to her in the same agonizingly perfect mantra as she does to him. A piece of the puzzle gently slides into place and there's no going back.

They're falling, both of them are falling into this head first and the world, it all washes away for the time being as he feels her coat him with each languid thrust of his hips.

She allows her head to fall back from their sideways angle and cries out his name in hurried chants as she grips the back of his short hair. She moans out softly that if feels like she's dying and he feels it too. It feels too damn good to be wrong he repeats. Her body against his feels so damn sure and final that this can't possibly be against the rules.

He grabs her exposed hip and brings her leg higher on his waist, thrusting until neither can breathe, his face burrowed into her neck. They're both on edge, he feels it in the way she brings her head back to his chest and holds on to his body, clinging to him as he clings on to the last bit of control he has.

Time stands still as they both come together again. Her walls clamp down on him hard and it feels like walking on dark storm clouds as the thunder and lighting crash around beneath the surface. They're plunging into the darkness of each other.

. . .

A week later, it's after ten and he's just gotten off of work. His partner left around nine after she told him she had an appointment early the next morning. He'd watched her leave biting down on his lower lip as his eyes trailed her every move, his head tilted precariously low. That was a few hours ago.

He takes a deep breath while he stands outside of her apartment, her door in his line of sight. He'd talked to his wife tonight. They're having dinner tomorrow night and he's afraid of what's going to happen.

He's afraid she will be able to tell he has secrets that are lingering just beneath the surface of his conscience.

He's afraid he won't reveal anything at all and that's what sends a chill deeper than anything else inside of him.

This new found darkness inside of his soul is terrifying yet endearing because of the woman he's about to see tonight.

He closes his eyes and dreams. He dreams of possibilities, chances and hope. His hope rests within the weary walls of the apartment in front of him. He opens the door and everything stops. His mind fast forwards past the locking of her door and the stripping down of his clothes and before he realizes it, he's crawling into bed with her and she's sleeping soundly. He's in his boxers and t-shirt, and takes a moment to comprehend that as he lets his body wrap around hers in attempt to soothe his aching thoughts about what's to come.

It concerns him that she has an appointment tomorrow. The reason why doesn't have to be apparent. He quickly concludes that she and he have been careful. If it were serious, she'd tell him he deduces. That is not what he's truly worried about.

He's worried about his wife smelling the sex he had with another woman on him from a mile away, because he plans on being with the woman in his arms right now, tomorrow before he goes.

Leaning over, he places a soft kiss against her equally soft neck and she moans softly. He watches her swallow before turning over in his arms.

Staring at her, he leans in and kisses her lips softly before resting his head on the pillow next to hers.

"I have a dinner date with her tomorrow," he whispers.

Her eyes pop open and she stares at him with darkened eyes but she doesn't say anything right away. Licking her lips, she breathes in through her nose before replying.

"What're you going to say?" she breathes out deeply, her voice just a wisp between her dry lips.

He turns over on his back and rubs his hands down his face.

"I think I'm going to tell her."

She turns over on her side quickly and looks down at him with a worried expression.

"What? What exactly are you going to tell her?"

He swallows against the roughness of his throat before taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to tell her the truth. There's someone else plain and simple. I'm not going to drag it out. That's not me. We can't pretend, I can't pretend anymore. I'll tell her I've been seeing someone but I won't say who. FUCK, I'm going to hurt her and that's the last thing she deserves," he blurts out, moisture in his voice. "This, this is the last thing I thought I'd be doing."

He looks over at her and her eyes are downcast and wetness lines the whites of her eyes.

"You sure this is worth it?" she asks in a low whisper, barely audible.

"I don't know," he answers truthfully. He loves the woman beside him more than he'd been ever willing to admit in the recent past. But, will starting out their relationship as an affair ever work for them in the long run? He's not sure and he can't lose her. He can't do it.

Shaking her head as if he's confirmed her thoughts, she throws her legs of the side of the bed and walks toward the bathroom. "I figured as much. Maybe this time, you'll figure things out with her. She's a forgiving woman. Take advantage," she shakes her head sadly as she walks through the bathroom door.

Elliot shakes his head trying to figure out what she's talking about. His wife will never forgive him for this, and then it hits him. His partner, his lover thinks he's going to confess his transgressions to his wife hoping that afterward they can still save their marriage.

He jolts up and with a few large steps his pushing the door open to the bathroom and she's sitting on the edge of the tub with her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Hey, what I said in there is not what it sounds like." He kneels down in between her legs and plants his palms on the cool porcelain. Leaning his head on her chest, he opens her up to him. She slowly, hesitantly clasps her hands over the sides of his head and pulls his face towards hers.

"I know what you said. I'm not worth it. It's just taken till now for you to realize it. Why ruin something else by telling her who you've been fucking on the side for the past few weeks. At least maybe we can maybe save our partnership. I get it."

"NO," he blows out in a harsh breath. "That's not what I meant. I meant she doesn't have to know. You know all the bullshit that flies around the precinct about us, and believe me she's heard some of it a few of them and has confronted me about it a few times over the years. She doesn't have to know about this because it was never true then and she'll only wonder if it was if I tell her about this now."

Nodding her head with the beginnings of tears barely contained in her eyes, she looks him in the eyes before letting his head go and gripping her knees as he continues to kneel in between. "Where does she think you are now? It's ten o'clock at night. You should be home by now."

"I told her I'd be home late again. She doesn't ask anymore, got tired of asking I guess."

"Hmm, she's gotta be suspicious. I mean how many times over the past two weeks have you not gone home all night?"

"She thinks I'm in the cribs."

"I see."

"Hey, I don't want you to think you're not worth it. You hear me? Like I told you the first time. This has been building and if it were anyone but you, I'd have never gone this far. You are everything, other than my kids," he grates out. "I can't stress that enough. I need you to need me as much as I need you. I can't explain it. It's been over between my wife and I for years and I was going to tell her we should finally end it tomorrow. I've been pretending my whole life that I was happy. But, I want..."

Before he can continue, she moves to get up and walk out of the bathroom in a hurried pace.

"Great. If it were anyone but me," she grates out and her tone scares him. "I don't want to be the end of your marriage. I have a little more dignity than that. You figure it out. But I won't wait forever."

As he follows her out, he yells in annoyance. "Get it into your thick head! I want you because you mean so GODDAMN much to me! Stop putting words into my mouth because you're scared."

"I AM scared goddamn you! You came over one night, got into my bed and started something so fucking out of your norm that I don't what the hell to think. We're having an affair! A fucking affair. I'm having an affair with my married partner. So save you self righteous claims of "passion". I want you to tell me why it's worth it when I feel like hell. I admit there are strong feelings here. Yea, I've had them a long time but I didn't want to get it like this. We could be possibly ruining each other."

She grips the sides of her head and sits down on the side of the bed roughly.

"I'm..." he starts.

"No, don't even try to apologize."

"Why?" he whispers deflated, his mind whirring from all the ways he's put his foot in his mouth and said anything but the right thing to her in his attempt to prove to her that she's it. Even if this goes to shit, he'll die an old lonely fuck because she's the only thing he sees clearly in the pitch darkness.

"Because, because I don't want you to stop," she cries into her palms.

Silence overtakes them and he wonders how he's going to convince her otherwise. That she's his world other than his kids. He's waited too long to tell one woman he's in love with her because he was afraid of telling the mother of his kids that he does love her but that he fell out of it a long time ago.

He takes a deep breath from across the room and watches her hunched form shivering on the side of the bed.

"I don't want to either. How is that?"

She softly laughs, and assumes it's bitter resentment for their horrible timing. She sniffs back the tears and turns to look at him, pursing her lips.

"Yea," he agrees. "I know. I want to make this right," he whispers as he shakes his head. "Please, don't give up on me."

Breathing in through her nose, he sees her nod and stare at him with lazy eyes. "I don't think I can forgive us for this, but something deep inside me wants to fight this battle with you through and through," her voice quivers. After a pause, she looks at him with red eyes. Dipping her head towards her chest she asks, "Will this all mean forever?"

"I don't know..." he pauses. "I wish I could make you promises. I want you. I wanted you so bad sometimes it hurt. I just want to make sure you understand that I want to make this right before I hurt any more people. I can't even comprehend how my kids'll take this. But, I want to end this lie with her more than anything."

She quietly nods her head. All of a sudden he can't wait until tomorrow night. He wants to have dinner with his wife for a much different reason than she does with him. Slowly, the pain starts to creep into his chest and the guilt fills his midsection until he feels like he's been submerged under a sea of nothing but salt water. His lungs start to burn and the only thing to ease the pain his her, his best friend of twelve years.

Swallowing, he clenches his eyes closed for a brief second and before he can think a second thought, he's crawling up the bed, up her body and then looking down into her eyes. Bending down, he gently kisses her soft lips once and then watches her watch him with her hands trapped in between his chest, limply stoic in his attempt to help them forget.

He is grateful that she's not denying him. More than anything, being buried deep within her is the answer. She's the only thing that makes sense in the all the confusion within his heart.

He moves to the side of her closed thighs and grips her shoulders, swiftly turning her on her stomach. She complies while letting a sigh escape her lips. As he pulls down her sleep shorts from his position behind her, she looks over her shoulder, letting him kiss her lips when he leans in, more than compliant this time to let her tongue tangle with his. A low,throaty moan escapes from deep within her when he leans down and kisses the small of her back, leaving a wet trail with his tongue.

In seconds, his shorts are down around his upper thighs and her legs are slightly parted in front of him, her behind just barely raised from off the bed. He slips his hand underneath her waist and runs his rough palm across the soft expanse of her stomach that lies flat against the cool sheets.

Even after the discussion and doubts minutes ago, she's ready for him. He finds this out as his fingers slip between her legs and as he does so, he begs whoever is listening to keep this for him. To let him have this because she's everything, and his heart soars knowing that she's in this as deeply as he is. That she has that unattainable trust within her to take this head on and dive in to the deepest end of the abyss with him.

He rests his chest into her back and he feels her take a deep breath as his weight falls against her. Wrapping his arms underneath hers so he can cup her clothed breasts, he nudges her legs apart from behind again and slowly slips inside of her. They both sigh as he slowly fills her to the hilt from behind. His pace starts slow and languid and he pants against the back of her hair, sending silky strands across her neck.

The wet friction sends a soft melody into the night as the skin of his hips collides with hers. He's in no hurry tonight.

She reaches her arm back and latches it around his neck as his speed slightly increases. The bed bounces beneath their combined weight and his dick quivers inside of her, the pleasure undeniable.

Kissing the underside of her forearm, he then tangles their fingers behind his neck and buries his face in the crook of hers trying desperately to make them both forget, if only for a few minutes, of what is going to happen in the near future.

As he leans down, his hips working in a desperate attempt to soothe the unease inside of her, he whispers over and over into her ear, listening to her moan softly against the pillow.

He hopes she understands. It's the one thing he knows for certain.

_You're worth it._

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading. There's more horizontal conversations where that came from. It's not going to be comfortable for them or to read and quite frankly, that's how it's gotta be. But no worries, I'm sure everyone will be pleasantly surprised by the end. Till next time. ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, he realizes he forgot about going home. But, he hasn't forgotten about the plans that he has with his wife that night.

He quietly slips out of his partner's bedroom and heads in early to work so he can shower and clean up before anyone else shows up. He leaves her a note and tells her he'll see her at the precinct.

She doesn't come in until eleven because of her appointment and she doesn't tell him anything until they go on a lunch break in the late afternoon.

"So, how'd everything go?" he whispers in a hushed tone as he salts his fries.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "Fine," she says noncomittally and she doesn't elaborate.

They sit in a small diner around the corner from the precinct and the early dinner eaters are piling in and he wants to ask her more but he's afraid of pressing for more because they're on such tepid ground outside of the walls of her apartment.

He can't afford anyone hearing so he leaves it alone for now.

. . .

"I'm leaving around six tonight. Don't know when I'll be done. I'd say see you tonight but I'm not sure if that's true," he whispers to her as they stand quietly in the hall outside of the squadroom. No one's around so he chances it here, though he still feels as if the air around them will ignite as soon as he says the wrong thing at the wrong time.

She nods and looks at him with rounded eyes and pursed lips. "Do you what you have to do," she whispers. "I'll be gone for awhile, so take your time."

He looks up at her, feeling his heart drop to his stomach, thinking the worst, thinking he's going to give up everything for nothing tonight.

"What?"

"I have plans tonight."

"With who?"

She sighs and looks away from him for a second before looking straight into his eyes.

"His name is Sam and he's friends with Fin. He's from Narcotics. He's a nice guy. He just wants to take me for a drink after work. Don't worry," she whispers sadly. "I just need to get out," she pleads with her eyes.

He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all. "How long you known him?"

She takes a shaky breath in front of him and he can feel the apprehension coming off her in waves. His heart beats hard against his chest and his hands become clammy as anger starts to boil from within.

"A few weeks, " she swallows timidly while trying to brush it off as nothing. "Fin introduced us one night after you had left early and the rest of us we went out to drinks after work. I'd already been home for a few hours before you came over for the third or fourth time that week. Before all of "this" between us."

"You were seeing him?"

Her immediate silence stills him. He thought she'd given up after that night when he'd come to her while she was still dressed up from a failed attempt to have a life after having that kid taken from her.

Stupid him. Why would she just quit? For him? She's a beautiful woman, why wouldn't she go out and try to live. He feels the tension building in his shoulders and sees the regret filling her eyes or so he thinks.

"I wasn't planning on any of this," she says in a low whisper. "It isn't serious. I'll be home tonight. Come over, please?" she asks, trying not to sound as if she's begging he assumes. And he understands.

He swallows and runs his left palm over the back of his warm neck, feeling the sweat boiling into his hand. He glares at her and immediately feels sorry for it but he can't stop the next words from spewing from his lips.

"Yea, you sure about that? I don't want to interrupt anything," he jabs letting her know he does not like her going out with some guy. He knows it's a low blow but he can't shake that she's trying to subtly end this with him when he's trying his damnedest to do this right by her in his own way.

Fuck. He should've have known better with her.

He narrows his eyes at her, daring her to say something back and then after a brief lapse in conversation he stalks away, heading towards the locker room and then the weight room.

She stays put, her jaw set and lips pursed but she doesn't say anything and he hears her go in the opposite direction.

He pounds his fists into the punching bag for what feels like hours. His knuckles feel like they've been through a grater when he's done. She never comes in after him and he feels dread building inside of him.

When he walks back out into the squadroom at five, an hour before he has to leave to see his wife, his partner's already gone. His fists clinch and his brows furrow.

. . .

An hour later, his right knee bounces uncontrollably underneath the table at a nice, quaint restaurant in Queens. It's a spot he has taken his family to more than a few times.

He almost feels sorry for letting his wife suggest this place when he's about to lay a double edged sword against her chest in a few short moments.

His wife walks in a few minutes later after he does and she sits in front of him after quickly spotting him from across the room. He notices her uneasiness and wonders what she's thinking.

Her sandy blonde hair falls in soft rivulets against her shoulders and she's not wearing any makeup ,other than maybe some blush he guesses, because her cheeks are unseasonably rosy in the warm weather they've been having.

He looks down and swallows down the bile in his throat. Good thing he doesn't plan on staying long enough to eat because he wouldn't be able to hold anything down.

Damn, it was a bad idea to doing this here he thinks, so he gently offers to take this back to their house in Queens so that they can talk there.

He doesn't miss the fearful expression that flits across her face as she agrees.

. . .

Sitting across from his wife in their kitchen a little while later, he breathes deeply before looking into her eyes. She meets his gaze half-way and starts to talk at the same time as he does.

"I think we should en-"

"I'm ready to start-"

They both stop and twitch nervously in their seats. Before he can elaborate anymore, his wife beats him to it.

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and then pulls his ring from out of his pocket, fingering the gold band between his thick appendages before looking his wife in the eyes.

"I'm sorry. This is hard."

Immediately, he sees from the corner of his eye how she moves uncomfortably in her seat. "What's going on? What do you want to talk about? I'm finally ready to talk," she adds matter of factually.

He nods and slips the ring back into his pocket before glancing up, realizing she has no idea what it was in his fingers or what's about to come from his lips.

"I want a divorce."

She's silent. Doesn't move. Her eyes are trained on his face and he can feel his cheeks redden from the scrutiny in her eyes.

"Why?" she asks honestly, the tilt in her head showing her genuine surprise and he flinches at her ability to ignore that past few weeks. To ignore how they've been going round and round like two hypothetical boxers in a boxing match. She knows as well as he.

He shakes his head. "That's what I was going to talk to about. You said you were ready so I'm talking. What were you going to say?"

"Well," she say breathes out exasperatedly. "I was about to say I was ready to fix this. I know we've been fighting a lot. But, I thought we were going to do something to repair us again. Fight a little, argue over what's right, agree on something and then go upstairs and make love like we always do," she pleads with moisture in her voice. "Isn't that right?"

He puts his elbows on the table and rests his forehead in his palms. Shaking his head negatively, he wonders if this is what hell is going to feels like.

His body is flushed with heat, from the despair of having to do this to her. She's a good person, doesn't deserve this and it's only his fault for putting this conversation off for so long and for starting an illicit affair with another woman.

"No," he breathes out. "Not this time. It won't work. I think it's-, I think it's time to face the music. We can't live like this anymore."

"I think we should work on it," she breathes. "I'm not understanding this unwillingness to work on it. Come on, we'll go upstairs.

We'll fix it," she pleads desperately. He can feel the pain radiating from within her and he feels like the world's biggest prick. He wants to crawl into himself and wither away.

If only it weren't for his partner on the other side of this, he'd do just that.

Shaking his head once more, he silently tells his wife, "no." No, he can't do that. He can't make up with her, make love to her when he's in love with someone else.

"I'm sorry, we can't do that. Not this time, not any other time. No more."

He listens to her shaky breaths.

"Why not? Why not this time?"

"Because I just can't..."

"Is there someone else?"

His following silence is her answer he realizes, just as his partner's had been earlier when she'd told him she was going out with another man.

His heart constricts at the comparison and the guilt starts pouring through him tenfold now that he's sitting in front of his wife, again he wants to fucking wither away but he can't.

Her eyes embolden and she lays her palms on the table top, letting one of her fingers scrape over an imaginary blemish in the surface. "Do I know who it is?"

He doesn't want to lie to her anymore, but he can't tell her. That's one thing he doesn't want to reveal. He can't do that to either one of them.

"No," he says softly and looks her in the eyes.

She nods and then purses her lips in disappointment. "I don't believe it."

He furrows his brows and lets a few seconds pass before he asks what she's talking about.

"What don't you believe?"

"You," she seethes. "YOU."

He sits back in his chair and swallows hard trying to figure out the best way to go about this.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"Oh, I know you are. I'm just disappointed that you'd still lie to me after admitting you're seeing someone else."

"I don't understand," he shakes his head.

"Don't bullshit me. I know when you're lying to me. Let's just hope this is all worth it," she grates as she pushes from the table. Before she exits the dining room, she turns to him with watery eyes. "I saw one, ONE, other man in our relationship. But I never cheated, Elliot!" she breathes out harshly.

And with those final words, she leaves him in the kitchen and seconds later he hears their bedroom door slam shut, loudly.

Her last words filter though his mind.

_Let's just hope this is all worth it._

_Worth it._

_You're worth it._

. . .

When he gets to the apartment building later that night, shit truly does hit the fan.

He'd been at his house in Queens for over three hours.

It's now fast approaching eleven p.m. and he needs her right now. He feels like shit. It went surprisingly well with his wife. About as well as you can expect, even with her last minute comment as he started for the front door.

Something about having her lawyer calling him in a few days and telling the kids one day that week. He can't be sure of her words though because his mind had been elsewhere, full of fog and adrenaline as it pumped through his veins.

As he approaches his partner's apartment door, he still feels the lingering affects of that adrenaline rush. He closes his eyes as he feels his feet pull him forward into the hopeful comfort of her arms. He needs it as much as he needs air right now.

Suddenly though, he feels the tension from earlier settle between his shoulder blades and the air rushes out of his lungs. Once he reaches her door, he stands still for a moment and glances down at his wrist watch. It reads 11:09.

She said she'd be home. Alone. But he knows he pissed her off with his arrogant, jealously borne comment as he stormed off earlier. The blood rushes to his forehead and the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach intensifies when he hears it.

The low hum of music gliding from beneath her door. The kind that's played when someone doesn't want other noises to be heard. The soft melodic tone of a sensual song burns him so deeply he thinks he's going to vomit.

He breathes deeply from his nose, feeling his blood pressure rise the more his fishes around for his spare key. He'll knock softly and if she doesn't answer he'll use it.

He knocks three times. Loud enough for him to feel the pressure on his knuckles but nothing stirs on the other side. The music persists and his rational mind disappears.

Jutting the key into her lock as hard as he can, he turns it and huffs out a breath. But as soon as he goes to breathe in, he hears it.

A soft moan.

As he walks into her apartment, he can't miss the fact it's almost in complete darkness.

As he approaches the living room, the music gets louder and the pounding in his temples gets harder.

Once he turns the corner from the front hallway of her apartment leading into her living room, he stops in his tracts.

She's on the couch.

On her back.

With some son a bitch she doesn't know all over her.

Sam, he presumes, has his hands and body parts on areas where they don't fucking belong and that's when Elliot sees red.

Neither notice his presence as he stands in the doorway of her living room.

He can't believe it. He can't believe she's doing this. They're more than being friendly right in front of him. Right after he told her he was ending it with his wife, right after she told him to come over.

Right after he'd insulted her.…

He realizes that the music he'd been hearing is coming from some random fucking ass moving he realizes as he glances over at the flickering lights coming from the television. He walks quietly over and flicks it off and that's when she jumps up.

He sees the way his name immediately dies on her lips when she sees the look in his eyes and he's glad because he's far from letting her get away with this or Sam here with this hand trailing precariously close to her inner thigh.

He takes a step forward and clenches his fists at his sides. The other guy who he's still not totally sure is Sam or not, looks bewildered, eyes wide and arms now lying haplessly at his sides.

Taking a deep breath, he narrows his eyes at the two of them, and then looks squarely at _Sam._

"Get the fuck out," he voice is low, rough, leaving no room for debate.

"Who are you?" the younger man finally speaks up.

"It doesn't matter. Get the fuck out, before I help you outside myself," he says slowly turning his gaze on her.

Before another blink of an eye and quite possibly because of the lack of protest from her, the younger man incredulously leaves and the two of them are left staring at one another.

One gaze full of fire, the other full of heat.

. . .

He takes her hard that night.

He's rough, and he buries his head in her neck as he pummels into with quick jagged thrusts. Her legs wrap tightly around his waist and his arms under her back secure her tightly against him as he looses control and takes her over the edge multiple times throughout the midnight hours.

She doesn't protest and he doesn't relinquish control when he fucks into her so hard that she cries out, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as they both come violently.

He's rough, he's hard edges, he's intense, he's relentless and passionate because goddamnit, he wants her to forget anyone by the name of_ Sam._

She's his and by God, he's going to fucking claim her after what happened tonight.

tbc.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why'd you do it?" he whispers to the black and gray shadows dancing around her bedroom.

She's lying on her side, her naked back facing him as it rises and falls with each breath she takes. He knows she's awake because the rhythm of her breaths had changed as soon as his voice had drifted into the dark.

A few moments pass and all he can hear is the low hum of late night New York drivers navigating the city streets below her apartment. He almost turns over to fall back asleep because of her lack of answer, when it finally does come.

"I don't know," she whispers. "I like him."

"No you don't. You don't even know him."

"I know him enough."

"Bullshit," he seethes as he turns over towards her, but she's still lying on her side away from him.

"What if we don't work? He likes me. He's good for me. I need to feel like I'm not always doing something wrong."

"What are you saying? What are you fucking saying? Huh? Are you kidding me?"

She's quiet and when several seconds pass by without an answer he grips her shoulder lightly and turns her over to face him. Her eyes are full of sadness and he wants to punch the closest thing that will inflict the most damage to his bones.

"I just needed to feel something other than regret," she whispers. "I thought he would help. I wanted to pursue something with him. I'm sorry," she mutters sadly and her bare breasts heave as he watches the white sheet drift down her stomach.

He feels like the world has stopped spinning, like the oxygen has been yanked from his lungs, like she fucking sucker punched him in the gut.

"I can't believe you," he whispers angrily. "Why are you doing this? I thought we were on the same page. I went home tonight to make this situation better. And now you're pulling this shit? I thought we were in so deep you wanted to wait this out with me," he pleads emotionally. "If you didn't want this at all, why didn't you tell ME."

She turns to face him full on. "How dare you. No shit. We're both better than this. That's why I'm trying to salvage our partnership. I am with you. I regret how we went about this but I don't feel sorry for our relationship. It's something you could never buy, never fake, never find in anyone else. It just ..." she trails off.

He closes his eyes and lays back against the pillows. "I told her tonight. I told her I was leaving, I wanted a divorce and she didn't argue. She did want to work things out at first, but once I told her there was someone else, she dropped it. She fucking dropped it." He doesn't know why he's pouring his soul out to her now after she's pulled the rug from beneath him. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense but he doesn't know what else to do. After a few beats he continues, "And now that she hates me, and probably my kids too, you're fucking giving up on me like I feared. Goddamn it!"

She sniffles and purses her lips and he can see the devastation on her face. She's holding back the onslaught of emotions caused by his words and he doesn't know why.

She should feel like shit. She let him in, she let him into her bed, into her body. She never stopped him and now they've been consumed by the darkness; she's breaking his heart. He's not blaming her for anything, not really, it's her fault just as much as his, but she didn't have to break his heart.

"I'm sorry," she cries softly against her palm. She turns over hurriedly and wraps her arms around his neck but he doesn't reciprocate. He just lies there as she cries against his neck. Staring at the ceiling is better than watching her tears run down his skin, feeling her warm body rub against his own. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't need to bring him into this. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. All I know is that I feel whole next to you only to feel empty everytime you leave."

He analyzes her words and her honesty but he's already told her. He won't be leaving anymore. He's made his choices and he has his regrets but she's afraid and it makes him uneasy and he hates that feeling.

"Have you had sex with him?"

A long pause occurs and he immediately turns his head towards her. She's gazing ahead toward the end of the bed with an odd expression on her face, as if she's in a trance.

"Please don't," she pleads quietly.

"Have you?" his anger starts to boil but his voice comes out surprisingly calm.

"NO!" she yells. "I haven't been with anyone for awhile, until you. It's only been you," she retorts hotly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told him to come up when I knew you'd show up. That was childish of me. God, I'm sorry."

The relief inside of him is unmistakeable as he lets out a rush of air that he'd been holding inside of him. Closing his eyes, he wonders if every affair holds these types of moments between the parties involved.

Listening to her apology, and the defeat in her words, he finally relinquishes his hold on his emotions.

The entire situation lands heavily on his chest. Nothing prepares you for something like this and the thought of her running from him just to save face at the precinct kills him. He'd give up that job for her any day. She's always meant more to him than that hell of a job.

He reaches over and runs his fingers through her hair, then pulls her head up so he can look her in the eyes. Once he's seeing into her, into the deep brown irises, he lets the words tumble out like a deep guttural confession.

"It'd kill me. To see you with him. After having you. Please," he pleads, his voice shaky. "Please, give me a chance first. I'll do my best to do better this time. I've fucked up so much. I just want that chance with you. I'll do better," he grates out into her neck and instantly he feels her hand cup his cheek.

"Oh boy," she sniffles, her words mumbled against his shoulder. "What have we gotten ourselves into, Elliot?" she questions and he feels her lips touch his forehead. He glances up and watches her eyes glisten in the bright yellow moonlight and he feels his body warm underneath her touch.

A soft and easy silence permeates the air around them as they stare at each other. She runs her index finger up and down his cheek and he loosely grips her hip, thumbing the smooth expanse of skin.

She leans in and kisses him lightly on the lips before moving her mouth down his jaw and over the side of his neck. "I'm so sorry for earlier. I wasn't thinking. I was only trying to feel numb because I wasn't sure if you were coming back," she whispers honestly he realizes and when she looks up from kissing his upper chest, he sees the vulnerability in her statement clear as day.

She was afraid he'd decided that she wasn't worth it.

He'd made her feel like shit for having been seeing someone before he'd inadvertently stole her away. Whatever might have been brewing between her and narcotics guy was put on hold because of his inability to control himself, he muses somberly.

He takes a deep breath and grasps her chin with his thumb, kissing her softly before nodding with a small smile. "Wasn't gonna give you up that easily," he mumbles thickly.

She smiles and blinks lazily before leaning down, never taking her eyes off of his, as she trails her mouth down his body, her tongue making a path down his abdomen before stopping right above his groin. He feels his body react instantly and the sheets starts to tent where it drapes over his lower body.

She starts to move it out of the way when he grabs her arm and pulls her back up to him. He maneuvers her body, pulling her forehead down, then intertwines their fingers on each hand as she straddles his hips.

"I don't need that," he whispers shyly. "I just need you."

He gently kicks down the sheet with one of his legs and then he's completely uncovered beneath her, naked, and all he can feel is the warmth of her center on his lower stomach. He pulls her down for a long kiss, tracing her lips with his tongue before licking her neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

Before he can even guide her, she's gripping him between his legs and leading him inside of her. Just as she's about to sink down on him, he grips her hand and stops her.

"You sure? I was rough earlier, I didn't hurt you did I?" he asks timidly.

She stops and he watches her ponder over his question. Then her eyes drop to his and she shakes her head. "It's okay. I can handle it. I'm big girl," she says seductively and he huffs out a rush of air as he feels himself sink in between her legs once again.

He lets her control this. He lets her have him and set the pace, at a slow, tentative up and down elevation. Letting her move her hips without his interference makes him sleepy as she lazily leans down and captures his lips again and again.

Her soft moans and whimpers keep him alert and fully aware of the pleasure he feels and the pleasure he guesses she's experiencing too as she grinds down. Her motions embed him deeply inside of her and it's bliss.

He feels his eyes droop low and he doesn't want to fall asleep on her, but he doesn't want to take that control from her either by gripping her and driving into her from below.

So he lets her rise and fall to her own beat until she convulses, gripping his shoulders while she squeezes him inside of her so tightly, they both come, albeit quietly amongst the city lights bleeding onto the mattress from outside.

She collapses on his chest and he lazily pulls her into his arms, pulling the sheet over their lax bodies.

His last thought before he lets the darkness consume him is that he hopes like hell this works out. He can't lose her.

. . .

The next morning he wakes up before her and it's a quarter till six. He knows her alarm usually goes off about that time, so he leans over and kisses her forehead before extracting his body from hers and getting dressed so he can get to work before her and keep up their guise of just being partners.

He leaves a note like before and walks around her apartment gathering his things before heading out her front door.

Just as he's about to step across the threshold, he hears something he never expected.

Sniffles.

He looks up and several feet down the hall is the source of the sound. His stomach plummets again.

His wife.

He can't do this…

He grabs the apartment door and closes it quietly behind him before leading his wife with a hand at the small of her back down the hall.

They cannot make a scene in front of his partner's apartment and so he searches his mind for somewhere where they can have some privacy.

"How long?" his wife's voice rushes out in a raspy whisper as they go down the steps instead of the elevator. He doesn't think he can handle being locked in a small space with her while still in the building. "How long have you been screwing her? She's the one isn't she?"

When he doesn't answer but continues to usher them out of the apartment complex, she nods her head.

"That's what I thought," she adds as she throws a wad of papers at him. "I "trusted" you. You're a good man and I loved you for twenty-five years. I don't deserve this. I don't understand."

"Not here," he says calmly, leading her towards his car on the street. "Get in."

She does so and he fumbles with the divorce papers in his hands. He can't believe this is happening.

"You didn't answer me. How long have you been fucking her? I want to know," she demands once he's in the vehicle, before adding," It'll come in handy with all the oncoming arrangements."

"Come on, don't do that," he pleads, his chest wound tighter than he's ever felt it.

"Why? I was good to you. Why? How long? I want to hear it!" her voice raising on the last sentence, her resolve finally waning from all the hurt he supposes. And he deserves it, he knows this.

Before answering, he turns the ignition on and pulls away from the building, taking them to the park so they can talk. He doesn't want to do this anywhere near here.

"I don't know how to explain it," he says as he parks the car at their destination a few blocks away. "I didn't plan it. I didn't want to hurt you. Anyone. Please don't hate me. You were good to me. I loved you, too. But we're not in love anymore. It's been forced for too many damn years," he admits as he stares blankly out of the front windshield.

"So you screw around on me? With your partner, the one woman who scared the living shit out of me? That's how you go about it? So you been fucking her all this time and just lied?"

"No. It's not like that. I promise you. It just started. Please... please," he begs. "Don't take this to the lawyers. I can't do that to her. God. I swear, it only started two weeks ago. Just please," he begs in a desperate whisper.

She doesn't say anything for a few long seconds, and he watches her turn her head toward the window, gazing at the early morning jogger running past them as they sit quietly inside the car.

He listens as she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry this happened too," she says more calmly. "I guess we did let this fester too long. But, I'm going to do what I deserve to and you'll just have to live with your decisions. I don't really want to hurt you either, but that's just the way it is," she finishes slowly, a sad monotone taking over her voice.

He swallows against the sandpaper feeling inside of his throat and thinks of what he can possibly say to her. Running a palm down the back of his neck, he lets a long, uneasy breath escape his lips. He still smells of sex, and he hasn't showered and he feels helpless in this situation.

He wonders what she is thinking. If she can tell what's going through his mind right now like his partner can. He wonders.

Never getting a definitive answer about what she plans to do, he turns the car on once more and pulls out into early morning traffic.

He drives her back home to Queens wondering the whole time what had been the last straw that lead her to his partner's building this early in the morning.

He supposes he'll never know but maybe he's as transparent as he's always feared. When he watches her walk up the steps, it's hits him. It's over.

And it ends up being the last time he speaks to her for months.

* * *

**Almost there. Two more chapters to go. Thanks for reading and be sure to drop me a word.**


	7. Chapter 7

**One more to go. This is a little bit of a longer chapter to lead into the final installment. Fear not. **

**. . . **

He stands outside of his partner's apartment door pacing back and forth the night after his wife finds out about them . As he paces with his hands on his hips, head bowed for long minutes, he takes deep breaths and that's when it finally hits him.

His partner isn't home.

He's already spent twenty minutes pounding on her door with the palm of his hand. At first he'd eagerly racked his aching knuckles over the wood before turning to the force of his open palm when she didn't answer.

Nothing.

He'd taken the day off and hadn't seen her at all except for early that morning when he'd gazed appreciatively over her sleeping form lying freely in her own bed.

Now she is gone and he doesn't know if she is still at work or what. All he knows is that her apartment is an empty shell resonating with the difficulty of their current predicament.

The main clue signifying her absence is the eerie calm that flows from the inside out of the tiny sliver of space beneath the thick door.

He doesn't feel nauseous, he doesn't have that absolutely dreadfully sick feeling he'd had that night he'd walked in on her with Sam, but it's a feeling of emptiness.

He feels sullen and melancholy and has a vague understanding of why. His day had been absolute shit.

Having to deal with Kathy, his new living arrangements, his job, his partner, his kids in less than a day's time was the last thing he had wanted and now his body and mind is begging for some type of refuge.

Slowly, the hand on the clock hanging in the hallway ticks round and round and before he realizes it, he's waited three hours outside of her door. He needs to talk to her and not as her partner, but to her as a woman, his friend, his current lover. He just needs her. So much crap has been running through his mind all day and it all has nearly driven him to a deep place he hasn't seen in awhile.

He could use a drink.

She is the only one who understands what he is going through and she isn't even home.

He lets his back slide down the wall as he bends down next to her door, letting his legs arch out in front of him as he stares blankly down at his clasped hands which are resting in his lap, ignoring the fact that his jeans are doing nothing to pad the discomfort of sitting on the hard floor of the hallway.

Just as he lets the back of his head fall against the wall behind him, he hears it. She is coming up the stairwell and he can hear her keys jingling before he sees her.

Before she sees him, he sees her.

She still has her work clothes on and her is hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her face looks tired and her shoulders slump from the exhaustion of another busy day he assumes.

Then, before he can open his mouth, she stops in her tracks and adjusts the bag hanging off of her shoulder, not saying anything. She simply stares at his haggard form sitting to the side of her apartment door and he feels like laughing at the way she looks at him, as if he was a drunken hobo asking for money to get his next fix.

Well, in all honesty, she is his "fix" and he needs her.

She anxiously bites the inside of her lower lip fishing for her keys before he finally speaks.

"Where were you?" he asks in a deep voice, void of any emotion. He fiddles with the loose strand of his navy t-shirt and then looks up to her, his eyes searching her face for something, anything.

He watches as she shifts on her feet, putting one hand in her back pocket and scratching her eyebrow with the thumb of her free hand before answering.

"I was working. More than I can say for you. Cragen said you had business to tend to today," she stops and turns her head down. "I was worried," she says more quietly.

He stares down at his legs as he answers. "Yea, I had a lot to deal with today," he says just as quietly, gently rubbing his eyelids with a thumb and index finger. As he stands up next to her, he bows his head close to hers as he whispers softly. "I just need someone to talk to." A few moments pass and eventually her eyes shift to his tiredly as she purses her lips and swallows. He can tell it's not lost on her what _talking_ will entail.

It's also not lost on him the way she swallows again and stands up straight before nodding her head in acceptance.

"Sure," she says. Her dark gaze settles on his for a few minutes before she nods again and opens the door slowly, letting him walk in first.

A few moments pass as she sits her belongings down on the coffee table and then goes back to lock her front door. Just as she heads toward the bathroom, his curiosity gets the best of him.

"Surprised Sam didn't take you out to drink after work."

He watches her back rise and fall as she sighs deeply, stopping in her tracks completely. Turning around slowly, she narrowed her eyes in his direction. "Don't start," she pleads in a defeated tone.

He nods nonchalantly and lets a few moments pass before adjusting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Are you still gonna see him?"

Running a hand through her bangs, she swallows deeply before looking at him from under her lashes. "We talk," she offers him vaguely. "I just... he's nice."

He nods once more and slowly slips onto her couch, raising his feet up on her coffee table and watching from the corner of his eye as she pads quietly into her bedroom.

When she comes back out, she stands at the arm of the couch biting her lower lip, wearing pajama pants and a loose fitting NYPD shirt. "You want something to drink?"

He swallows against the dryness of his throat and turns to look at her. "What's the strongest thing you have?"

She simply nods, immediately understanding him, and goes into her kitchen. She brings him back a shot glass full off bourbon. Perfect, he thinks.

As he throws back the shot glass, he settles back into the couch and waits for her to sit down next to him. When she does so, he finally relaxes.

The night continues on in silence and when it hits close to midnight, he sets his empty glass on the table with a soft clunk and turns to her.

He can tell she's fighting sleep, her eyes droop dangerously low before popping back open as her empty beer bottle sits in between her legs. He watches her for a few seconds, seeing her lick her lips before resting her back further into the corner of the couch. He closes his own eyes for a few seconds before he speaks.

"She knows. She knows and she's pissed," he whispers shakily. Immediately her dark brown eyes shoot open.

She takes a deep, shaky breath and blinks slowly before finally turning her face towards his, reading into his thoughts it feels to him.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. A part of me feels better knowing you're not lying to her anymore, another part feels horrible knowing I'm the cause. I hate it... I hate it so much," she whispers harshly.

"I know," he breathes out. "I never wanted to do this to you or to her. You're not to blame. I couldn't control myself."

"Let's please not get into this right now. I can't imagine what you're feeling but I only hope that things fall into place if they're meant to be," she adds quietly.

"You're meant to be," grates out in a whisper. "Don't doubt it. I don't."

She nervously lifts her gaze away from her clasped hands and meets his eyes with hers, the whites of her own glimmering with un-shed moisture. He feels a pinch of remorse sear through his stomach and reaches over to grab her hands so he can intertwine his fingers with hers.

Her breath comes out in heavy bursts as she scoots closer to him. He pulls her the rest of the way to him and she rests her head on his chest as he breathes in her scent. Her body is warm and intoxicating and he can feel the vibrations of her breathing against his chest. He sucks in a full breath of air and lets it out slowly, the rush ruffling her hair across her forehead. For long moments, they sit in complete silence as he uses his thumb to rub smoothing circles on the palm of her hand.

The next thing he feels is her shifting slightly in his arms and her breath hitting the side of his face as she grips his hands tightly.

"Let's go to bed," she breathes into his ear.

. . .

Laying in bed with her will never get old. The way her body molds to his in the heat of passion will be forever ingrained in his memory.

After they'd made love the first time that night, they'd talked. He'd told her about how his wife was angry with him and how he'd driven her home and then went to a tavern down the street from his old apartment from after their first separation. He was just worried about the office finding out and how they were going to deal with it then.

She'd mentioned a second date she'd had planned with Sam. His hands had clenched beneath the covers. "I don't understand. Why are you going again?"

"I just need to keep a front you know and plus, he's good for me right now," she pauses. "I'm not forgetting about us. He's unknowingly keeping us out of trouble. I just don't want to let that go yet because I actually do like him."

His pulse had risen and he turned angrily onto his back. "I don't like 'em."

"Of course you don't. I'm sorry."

As he stares at the ceiling now, he wonders why events in one's life ever happen. He wonders why he really decided to break down and go with his heart that night, why he pushed her into this, why she thought this guy was worth her time, why she thought it was a good idea to go out with him again.

"You serious about him?"

"He's..." she starts warily, rolling onto her side as her elbow helps her hand prop her head. "He's the kind of guy I "could" see myself getting serious with. Like I said, I'm trying to keep a front. You're who I'm with now, why are we talking about this?" she asks with her gaze set on the white sheets between their bodies.

"Because," he huffs out, his anger overtaking her attempt at alleviating his stress. "Because, I just ended my marriage and now I feel like I'm slowly but surely losing you too. Why the hell do you think I'm asking? This is bullshit and you know it. What happened to not wanting to involve him? We talked about this last night!"

She huffs out a breath of air and pulls the covers over her naked body. "I hardly call what we do at night talking." Turning her head away from him, she hesitates before adding, "I...I need a distraction. Is that too much to ask? What about when you went home and got to play house as a distraction from this? What happens to us? What happens to our jobs if we're found out? That's all I'm saying." Slowly, she turns her gaze to him and he can feel her eyes burning into his skin. "I'm not doing it on purpose to hurt you," she continues in a harsh whisper. "You know I wouldn't. I'm just as confused as you are. I'm scared. We've risked so much for a chance to have this and I can't help but feel like everything is going to hell slowly but surely."

He rolls onto his side facing her, calming himself down in the process because he knows she's right. As much as her truths slice at this gut, he knows she's right.

Running his index finger down the side of her cheek, he stops to tip her chin up. "You don't want it anymore?" he asks sadly.

"I'm not saying that," she whispers as her eyes begin to water. "We just didn't think this through very well."

"I want it. Remember when I told you you were worth it? I mean it and I don't want to lose you to some distraction. I'm serious. I'll transfer. I'll take blame. I'll do whatever you want."

"I don't want another partner! And you can't take blame, it definitely took both of our input to get us into this situation. You know that. I just ... I don't know." She closes her eyes and he debates whether or not to press the issue. He watches her eyes twitch and then reopen as she stares back at him and she says. "Let's just not discuss anymore right now."

"When then?" he asks.

"Just ... not right now. Soon," she breathes out.

Silence lingers between them for a few moments before either move. Without a word, he simply reaches down and runs his fingers down her side, feeling her body heat through the sheet.

Gently, he maneuvers himself over her and pushes the sheet away from her body with his foot. Once the sheet is gone, he looks down at her naked body.

Her tan skin is illuminated by the moonlight and her hair is splayed out by her shoulders. As he takes his time running his palm down the center of her breasts, down her stomach and over the tops of her thigh, he hears her breath hitch.

Tonight, they just need to revel in each other's presence because even if she doesn't want to admit it, he feels that something drastic is about to change with them and he won't be able to withstand not being around her if it all goes to hell.

His ministrations stop briefly when he hears her hoarse whisper filter into his ears.

"This can't the answer to everything. I know that."

He glances back up to her closed eyes and gently swipes the hair from her face. She eagerly grips his shoulders as he then inches her thighs apart with his thick thighs and lays in between them, naked, aroused and full of dire feelings.

His voice is grainy and his throat is dry from the truth of her words. They're not only about sex. They're so much more and this isn't the way to solve their problems he knows this but she doesn't want to talk anymore.

"I know," he finally breathes out. "I know."

Her bold brown eyes, glossy and full, slowly open and silently watch him as he leans down and kisses down her chest.

He notices her eyes lazily watch as his tongue trails a wet pattern in between her breasts. While his body rests in between her thighs so intimately, his mind races with desire and fear.

Planting his palms into the cool sheets on either side of her shoulders, he leans down and captures one of her bare breasts in his mouth, biting down hard on her erect nipple for a slight moment before soothing it with his tongue. She hisses in pain and grips his head in her palms. "Jesus, what're you doing?"

"Making you mine," he growls as he captures her lips with his roughly, bruising and biting at her supple skin, causing her body to tremble beneath him.

The room is quiet except for the bed springs squalling from each move he makes and the low drone of her damn alarm clock buzzing to his left.

Sitting on his knees, he pulls her down by her thighs until she is lying underneath him, legs arched behind him, her lower half pressed firmly into his lower abdomen.

He grunts melodically at the feeling of her heated moisture seeping into his own skin and then bows down again, capturing her other breast in his mouth.

Once he bites down on the hardened nipple, he feels her hands on the sides of his face again and when he looks up, he doesn't miss the darkened expression on her face as her chest rises and falls with each of her bated breaths.

Just by the look in her eyes, he can tell she wants it like this tonight just as much as he does. Her jaw clenches and a heavy rush of air comes from her nose.

Slowly, he bends down again, lapping against the raw nipple with his tongue while never losing eye contact with her.

He'd never been able to be rough with his wife because he'd always been afraid of hurting her. But with Olivia, he knows her. Her body was designed for him and it makes him chest clench with the certainty of the moment.

The intimacy is real and the heat is searing and the incisiveness of her touches send him into overdrive as he roughly pulls her down the bed again by the hips and plants his palms on the sheets just above her shoulders.

"You. Are. Worth. It," he breathes into her hair as his right hand trails up her side, gripping her right breast in his hand. As he kneads it roughly in his palm he hears her breath hitch and her hands start wander all over his body.

Her nails drag roughly over his neck, his shoudlers, his back and his ass. She lifts her head to bite down on his lower lip as he kisses her sloppily, dipping his tongue inside her mouth and listening to her moan.

He then moves his mouth to her neck leaving deep purple marks on her skin at the same time. "Fuck me," he hears her plead quietly into his ear. They need this. They need to reassure each other they are on the same page and so they do.

He grabs her wrist and pins it above her head as he shoves her legs apart roughly with his hip. As he bends down to kiss her again with her wrist tightly clenched in his hand, she starts to writhe beneath him. Her free hand is all movement, gripping his ass hard and scraping her nails down his back leaving crimson lines against the taught muscles of his back and shoulders.

Her other hand fights with his as he lets his stomach lay against hers, pressing her into the mattress with his torso. She pushes her free hand against his pectorals roughly and he presses back, gripping her thigh with his fingers in a stronghold, holding her in place while letting her contained hand go.

She then wraps her arms around his shoulders and buries her face in his neck while wrapping one leg around his hip. She lets the other foot glide up and down the back of his leg seductively, the smoothness of her foot grazing the fine hairs on his legs.

His dick twitches.

Slowly, he arches his body up and hovers over her before dragging her lower body roughly against his again.

He finally pushes inside of her in one thrust and she cries out, gasping and tangling her hands around his back and he's never felt the emotion well up inside of him like it does this time.

"God," she silently whimpers as he pushes in deep. He's never felt so imbedded within than just physically. Her body fits around him and her soul consumes him with each touch of their skin.

It's more than sex. It's more than blind passion. It's his paradise being inside of her.

As he starts to move within her, she grips his shoulder blades roughly and begs him to go harder.

He does.

His thrusts become ragged and unceremonious as he tempts her with his hips, dragging his body against her with heat, passion, lust, love and everything she's ever made him feel.

Her moans sift through the air against the quiet of her apartment sending chills down his spine and horsepower into his hip action.

He spreads her legs even further and she falls on her back panting. "Harder," she repeats as he leans over her, brushing her lips with his own.

In between breaths, she bites her nails into the flesh of his upper thighs as he thrusts, her body swaying up and down against the cool sheets with every push of his hips.

Her breasts sashay with the wailing bed springs as he approaches that all consuming precipice.

When he is with her like this nothing else matters. The sight of her face contorted in pleasure makes him falter, then work harder, praising her body with his own as if her body, glimmering with sweat, is some sort of sacred shrine and he silently prays.

_Father forgive me for I have sinned._

It's on repeat in his mind and he can't stop moving and he can't stop feeling her and touching her because it's adrenaline and passion and lust and love he's never felt before.

Before he can think about exploding, he feels her sweaty palms on his chest, and then he is under her.

Her head tilts back as she begins to ride him. Her body sinks down onto him and her hips begin to jerk back and forth.

She positions her hands on his upper chest and bends down, sucking on his neck and biting just as scornfully as he had. "You feel so good," he growls into her ear. "Faster."

She eagerly lays her forehead against his chest and bounces her hips on him, moaning to God and asking for it to please not stop when she's the one in control.

He'd been ready to explode minutes before while on top of her, now the feeling of her moist insides gliding over him sends him into overdrive. His mind whirs uncontrollably at the thought of his partner riding him.

Pleasure rips throughout his body and his skin tingles from the onslaught of emotions. Every time he's with her like this, he feels as if he's found his oasis.

She quenches his thirst in the most prolific of ways and when they're like this, nothing matters he repeats to himself.

He feels as if he should document every moment like this with her but this time, he hardly thinks, feeling instead. He feels and lets his body appreciate the way hers conforms to his.

He grips her hips tightly and thrusts upwards. That's all it takes because her head falls back, mouth agape and fists clenching his shoulders as she gasps for air.

A low, gutteral whimper comes from deep within her as she comes and seconds later, he comes inside of her.

Worth.

She is worth every single ounce of pain and pleasure and he is pretty sure she feels the same way when she collapses onto his chest.

. . .

That night, as they lay side by side, he whispers noncommittally about her appointment that one day and she simply whispers her answer in return.

"Birth control."

He swallows and cranes his neck over so he can look at the side of her face. She's on her back with one arm draped over her chest, the other bent next to her head.

"I thought you had that taken care of already, before we first had sex?"

"I did. I was on the pill, but with our job, it wasn't completely safe. And with _this, _I couldn't risk it so I changed birth controls."

He quietly nods and swallows the lump in his throat.

Thinking about all the complications that could've arisen from an unplanned pregnancy with his partner sends a pang of guilt and regret to his stomach.

He'd been too fucking horny and lust blind that he hadn't even thought about how their job could have made her forget to take the goddamn pill.

It makes him love her that much more for being smarter than he and figuring out an alternate plan. For him. She's always altering her life for him.

After their quiet conversation, he lays on his back staring at the ceiling before mentioning halfheartedly about taking some time to himself for a few days. She agrees that it's a good idea. He thanks her with a small smile.

Then after a short silence, they reluctantly decide to take a week break from all of it. He is wary for a myriad of reasons about this part of the decision but decides that it is the right thing to do and a break with a new start in tow will be refreshing and good for them both.

. . .

Eight days later, after finding an apartment of his own and telling his kids about the divorce, he is exhausted. The week has been long.

He'd taken two more days off and told Cragen he was working things out in his personal life and wasn't pressed for more.

It had been a relief because of the very deep and dark secret he shared with his partner just lingering beneath the surface.

It's been eight days since they passionately made love and claimed each other in the only way appropriate at the time.

His heart aches because he'd heard her talking to Fin earlier that day about Sam. He really thought he was going to blow a gasket if he heard her mention him one more time.

As he approaches her apartment building, he reaches into his pocket thinking about calling her first to see if she is home.

He'd been in Queens most of the day packing so he isn't sure if she's up there. He knows she works the weekends sometimes.

Deciding against calling, wanting to be discreet, he makes the slow walk up the stairs letting his heart settle into the deepest pits of his stomach.

Once he's outside of her door, he notices how quiet it is yet again inside of her apartment and his heart begins to pound. It is technically the weekend. Saturday. She might not be home because of a case.

Taking a deep breath, he knocks once and immediately behind him, he hears someone clear their throat.

"What are you doing here?" she asks softly from behind him. He whips around and puts his hands in his jean pockets.

"I uh, it's been a long week. Just came by to see if you wanted to talk," he admits quietly. "Can I come in?"

When she shifts nervously in front of him, he finally notices her outfit. She has on a deep blue knee high dress, her hair fluffed with slight waves, weathered by the wind it looks, and he takes in her matching heels and dangly earrings.

His mouth becomes dry and the ache intensifies in his chest.

"Um," she breathes out. "Yea," she says, nervously running her hand through her hair as she fishes through her purse for her key.

Once inside, she says, "I'll be right back, make yourself comfortable," she tosses over her shoulder as she heads for her bedroom.

In the soft light coming from the lamp next to the couch and the silver moonlight bleeding across the walls, is where he sees the flush in her cheeks.

His heart pounds and breaks at the same time behind his ribs. Each beat of his heart seems to fill his chest with acid and he wants to dissolve into thin air.

Instead, he slowly walks over to the couch and sits down with his elbows on his knees as he waits. It takes her twenty minutes to change out of her dress clothes and he knows something is up.

She's avoiding him.

He didn't remember it taking her that long to change the week before and immediately he feels like he's going to be sick.

As soon as he thinks about bolting for the door, he hears her bedroom door click open and her feet pad softly towards the kitchen. Her voice trails off as she speaks over her shoulder, "Can I get you anything? Drink?"

His mouth is so dry he doesn't think he can voice his answer until a rumbled "no" comes from his throat.

"Okay. I'll be in there in a sec," she says quietly.

When she comes back a few minutes later, he can see her skin shine from a new coat of lotion he can smell from where he is sitting on the couch.

He's sitting on the farthest cushion from her and she is pressed firmly into the other corner, sipping from a glass of water.

She looks uneasy, nervous and it makes him more and more angry, his own nerves slowly spinning off the edge of reason.

After a few moments of silence, he watches her from the corner of his eye as she takes an especially long sip of water and then sets the glass down on the table.

Immediately her eyes settle on her lap with her legs crossed in front of her and her arms planted in between. He watches as she slowly starts to look at him under her lashes.

"So, what happened today with y-" she starts but he interrupts her first.

"Were you with him?" his fear of where she'd been coming out right away without his control.

Her eyes widen and she takes a deep breath as his words filter in between them. "What, what are you talking about?"

"I asked were you with him? Not a hard question," he bites and watches her tense up simultaneously.

Sighing, she plants an elbow on the back of the couch before turning her gaze towards him. He watches her try to play dumb but he knows.

"Who, Sam?"

"YEA. You were awfully dressed up. Were you with _Sam_?

"I thought we talked about this. I thought you understood we need something to take the pressure off. So, yea, I was with him. He asked me to dinner. I wasn't going to turn him down. This is all so much and I had to get out and do something for ME!" she says in a shaky breath.

He watches her face flush with frustration and he looks down to his own lap as he twiddles his thumbs over his entwined fingers.

Biting his lower lip, he looks back up to her and sees the watery gaze she is throwing back at him.

"You sleep with him tonight?" he whispers hoarsely, sadly.

He immediately sees the way her breath stops and it more or less confirms it for him. The nice clothes, the tangled hair, the flushed cheeks.

She slept with him.

Now he realizes why she was so complacent with his idea of taking a week break. It was her way of slowly, but surely weening herself off of him and he feels anger, fire, deceit flowing through his veins.

She doesn't answer and she must not realize how guilty that makes her seem. Her head is facing away from him as she plays with a loose thread from the back of the couch.

"I don't want to talk about this," she swallows. "No... we're not doing this..." she half whispers as she turns her back to the couch and runs a hand through her hair.

"Doing what?" he seethes, his anger boiling more intensely every second they sit here pretending he's not pissed she slept with someone else after he himself had an affair with her.

Yea, it's no big deal. No.

He knows it's his fault for pushing her but the liquid fire in his veins starts to burn throughout his entire body at the thought of her having sex with someone else after EVERYTHING they told each other.

When she stays quiet and has the audacity to look annoyed, the heat flowing through him boils over.

But before she has a chance to voice it he's standing in front of her, his knees pressed into the cushion she sits on.. "DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?"

She jolts her gaze to his in surprise at this outburst. Her eyes are wide and she briefly looks down at his legs pressed into the cushions below her crossed legs.

"Stop," she grates out, her anger and confusion apparent in her flushed face.

"GODDAMMIT, WHY?" he grates out in return.

She gets up from the couch this time and pushes past him towards her room. From what he can tell, she's intending to close herself in so she can run away from the situation, as usual.

"Leave please?" she half shouts. "I need to get to bed. We have have a long week coming up. I have errands to run tomorrow so if you would, lock the door when you leave," she retorts as her voice trembles, betraying her attempt to sound unaffected by his accusations.

He stops breathing for a second, his anger still a low simmer beneath the surface.

He watches her hands flex before she turns around to face him, placing her hands on her hips in resignation.

He doesn't recognize his own voice when her eyes raise to meet his.

"You don't love him," he says simply. "You're just making things more complicated."

"I said I'm not talking about him anymore. What I do in my own time is my own business so drop it."

"The fuck I will!" She blanches at his outburst and it fuels him more. "We just made love a week ago and now you're fucking someone you don't know! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? I'm trying to live what's left of my life, dammit. I didn't want to do it this way but GOD, I know you hate it but I'm trying to do something with what I have. We can't keep on like this," she gasps as her words filter into the room. Her eyes widen at her revelation and his heart sinks.

He had feared this. He could tell she didn't mean to voice her doubt but it was out there now.

"What're you saying?"

"I like him. He's good for me. I didn't want to admit it but it's true."

He huffs out incredulously. "What about me? What the hell have I been doing this past month or so?"

"I'm sorry," she offers softly. "I think we made a mistake and I'm sorry," she breathes out as a tear trails down her cheek. "It's the only way we'll survive this."

"I can't believe it," he mutters as he sits down a few feet from her with his palms resting flatly against the sides of his head. "I can't believe it."

"We made a mistake. Look at your life, your family. I ruined this and us, for you. I ran into your wife and daughter two days ago and your daughter looked like she wanted to kill me. Your kids looked up to me and look what I did. I betrayed them and your family. You still have a chance to make it work with your kids, to have them understand. If we end this, you won't have to worry about all the awkwardness and hate because of what I allowed you to do," she whispers pleadingly.

"You didn't allow me to do anything I didn't initiate. Goddammit."

"Yes, I did. Just stop with the self blame, it's both of our faults. It was both of our decisions. And now it should be part my decision and my choice to end this. I love you. I care about you and that's why I think it would help you to take this opportunity. Take what you have left. You have so much more to lose than I do. I have nothing. I want to live knowing you're beside me gaining opportunity not living a lie. Take it as a lesson learned," she tearfully offers.

"Yea some lesson," he grates as he purses his lips in despair.

"It hurts so much to say this... but I think it's what's best. We made a mistake and I'll take you being beside me on the job then have you hate me for what I've caused."

"Fuck that job. You're the one that matters. I gave up finally on a loveless marriage, my house because you said you would fight through this with me til the end. Until we could start something fresh together because it was worth it, but now look. It got too hard and you're running. How can you look me in the eye and say some random stranger is better for you when I'm all you know? Huh? He that much better in the sack?"

"Fuck you. FUCK YOU! It's not about that. I'm telling you that I've thought about what we agreed to. We thought about being together and making it all work out while we were in the heat of passion. But now that we've seen the consequences of our actions, we've gotta realize that this can't possibly work!"

"You mean you won't let it work because of some fucked up notion that something else will go wrong. Well guess what? We're already fucked. Why are you running from me now?"

"I have to."

He nods tersely. "You don't have to do shit Thanks a lot. I never thought I'd be so deceived by you of all people. Have a nice life with Mr. Fuck Buddy."

"You don't even know what you're saying. You don't even know him," she grates harshly.

"Fuck him! See if he's there once he finds out about us. See who's there when everything does go to shit. See who's good for you when he uses you for what you're worth and bolts because he can't possibly understand you like I do. So, keep on telling yourself that. I'm sure he's real good. _Real_ good."

"Fuck you!"

"Already did, honey and look where it got me?"

He knows he hit a nerve when he watches her try to keep her bottom lip from trembling this time. He knows he's done it this time, royally fucked up but there's no going back.

His words were meant to burn and he can see her subtly becoming engulfed in their demise as one.

With no response from her, he is out of the apartment in seconds and barreling down the steps and out of the building.

He faintly hears her footsteps behind as she cries out his name, begging him to stop and that she is sorry and that she doesn't want to lose him.

But he never stops. He doesn't turn around until he's in his own apartment just outside of Queens and slamming the front door closed behind him.

That night he drinks. A lot. He drinks until he doesn't wake up until two o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday.

When he goes into the work on Monday, his headache from the day before still lingers behind his temples and everything sets him off.

At around nine, he noticeably flinches at his own recognition of his partner's absence. A few seconds later, his captain calls him into his office and his world flips upside down.

He had thought his axis was thrown off during the heated discussion with his partner the Saturday night before, but now that his boss has called him into his office with a grave look on his face, his life is stilted knowing the inevitable is around the corner.

It only takes seconds for the words to come out of his boss's mouth, the office door isn't even completely closed behind him before they do.

"She resigned this morning."

He pauses and watches the solemn expression on his boss's face before falling into the plastic chair in front of the heavy wood desk.

As he stares into Cragen's eyes, he lets long moments pass before letting his gaze slip away. Swallowing, he runs a hand down the back of his neck and tries to find something to say but nothing escapes because of the heaviness in his chest.

He's suffocating even though he's still breathing.

He never wanted this to happen. He guesses he couldn't have his cake and eat it too. This job was her home, her life. He never meant to take that from her.

"Son, is there anything you want to say first because I think we need to talk."

Shaking his head, he wonders where she is right now. Is she gone for good? Did she leave town? Does she hate him? He has no idea and it is killing him. With a dry throat, he nods slowly and lift his eyes to his boss's.

"We had a fight." That is all he says and his boss reluctantly comes around to sit on the front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest and his face full of concern, the lines in his forehead declaring he's had ample time to run this situation over and over in his mind.

But his voice comes out low and knowing.

"You sure that's all that happened? She didn't tell me the exact details, but I got an inkling of what's going on. So care to explain?"

"What sir?"

"Don't play around," his captain says evenly. "You were two of my best officers. Two of the most dedicated people around and after a fight your partner bolts for good. So, care to tell me what happened? And tell me the truth."

Sighing, he sits up straight and runs his palms up and down his thighs. He is nervous and not sure if he can tell his boss what went on because he doesn't want to ruin any chance of his partner working here again.

"I can't..." he stutters. "Is she...?"

"She resigned. She'll be getting her retirement funds in the near future and I can't say I'm not disappointed. I know she wasn't ready to leave yet. So..." Cragen presses sternly.

His gut churns.

"Cap'n, we made a mistake," he whispers solemnly, slowly relinquishing his hold on the dirty truth.

Nodding, the older man stands and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly and then letting the hand fall back to his side.

"I'm not going to sugar-coat anything with you, detective. I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in both of you, but you were the married one. I just hope you find what you're looking for. Fraternization is frowned upon and starting today, you're on temporary suspension."

His head jerks up, the question in his gaze more than apparent he realizes as he watches his boss shift uncomfortably at the questioning look and then down at his shoes with his hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

"Word around narcotics is that two SVU detectives are sleeping around and not with other people apparently. You didn't hear that from me, but it's hard to ignore when one of your best detectives resigns right after you find that out, so I put two and two together."

The name Sam floats through his mind and his fists clench but quickly unravel under the circumstances. It isn't worth it anymore.

Nodding, he stands up and walks toward the door. "I'm sorry Cap. I fucked up."

"I don't doubt that, son," the older man says sadly. "Unfortunately whatever it is can't be undone. Go, take care of yourself. See you in a week."

He nods and walks slowly out of the office in a daze. He doesn't even flinch at the knowing looks of Munch and Fin as he grabs his coat, glancing at Olivia's bare desk. His heart aches, burns.

Never in a million years did he ever think one brash decision would lead to this much heartache. As he walks out into the early summer air, he realizes his downfall.

He probably should've transferred when his wife asked him to all those years ago. As he looks over his shoulder to at the station house he has called home many times, one thing flits through his mind.

_Father forgive me for I have sinned._

It's the last time he ever sets foot inside the one-six.

_**One Year Later**_

He still thinks about her.

Of course he does. She was in his life for twelve years_. _

_Twelve years._

He sits on his couch in his apartment and he has the Yankees game on. It's summer again. This time last year he was with her.

This time last year he sometimes went home, was with his wife, and knew his kids were just up the stairs or a phone call away.

His older daughters still call him but his twins don't bother and his youngest doesn't know any better being the ripe old age of four and a half.

He got a letter the other day.

It was from her and his chest aches thinking about how he fucked everything up in just a split second. All it took was one rash decision to press boundaries with his partner to turn his life upside down.

He doesn't talk to his ex-wife at all, except to ask if the kids are all okay.

Lesson learned, he thinks snidely.

Then he again remembers the letter he received.

She's in computer crimes at the 2-9 now. She'd written that she misses him, regrets how things turned out and hopes they can find a way to coexist again. One day. She's still living in the same building but in a different apartment. She had said that it was best not to give him the number, that It just wasn't a good idea. The most achingly positive thing she mentioned was that she was single in no uncertain terms. She and Sam had broken things off completely less than a week after she left SVU. She said he was right, she didn't know Sam like she should and she honestly didn't want to. Bringing another person into it wasn't the right thing to do and she was sorry. She had just been confused and angry about the fact that she wanted him and felt guilty for all the things he lost in the process of getting there.

She'd said she thinks about him all the time and remembers the good things they shared, but that for the most part, everything they shared all blends together.

She'd said she sees his face all around her but hasn't been back to the precinct since that day and hopes he's doing good because she still cares for him. The most important thing he remembers her mentioning in the letter though, breaks his heart.

She'd told him that losing him as her partner, a friend has been the hardest thing she's ever had to deal with in her entire life. And then she'd written:

_I've made so many mistakes in my life, but loving you, isn't one of them._

He can't remember the rest because his chest constricts with emotion and finally after year of devastation, he lets a tear trail down the stubble of his cheek.

Knowing her like he did, he knows it was hard for her because he feels exactly the same goddamn way.

He angrily wipes the stray tear away and takes a swig of his beer. He's read that letter at least ten times and he still can't get past how everything got so out of hand so fast.

She had led him to believe they would be together in the end but he doesn't really blame her for how it all turned out.

He would have loved to have fought through the turmoil of their decision to be together, to stick it out and to try and turn it into something positive.

But he should've have known that, with her, nothing is simple. She is this complex puzzle with so many shapes and crevices to her that he'd be trying to learn her for a millennium.

The thing is though, he knows her so well on the inside that he lost sight of what was right there on the surface of her skin.

She loved him and would've waited.

He had pushed her too hard he realizes, so he doesn't blame her as much as he did in the beginning.

He wants her still and the feeling of loneliness overtakes him most nights. He usually just drinks the days away or sleep hours and hours, catching up on the sleep he's lost over the past two decades of his life.

Today though, as early evening slowly turns into the darkness of night, he realizes that he'll never truly sleep soundly again. He may sleep but that only means his mind wanders the dark areas of his soul until he wakes again.

The heavy orange and brown sundown glows through his living room window casting a bright glare off his television screen. He squints at the sheen of white in front of his eyes and immediately sees her face in his mind.

When he's out doing basic things, he thinks he sees her sometimes too. In his mind, they make eye contact, but then she just walks away. She always walks away.

He's lost her for the moment. The only hope he clings to is that letter, the realization that she's reached out to him and doesn't hate him for making her into something she never wanted to be.

He'd write her back but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he doesn't blame her for walking away and he should treasure the letter and not push his luck.

She did what she did because she was trying to save him and nothing that he has to say is going to alleviate any of the stress he put on her.

And plus there's no return address.

He lost her the minute he decided to have an affair with her.

He thinks about her again. About their last night together. He remembers the way the shadows danced off her body as she moved beneath, above and beside him.

She's always a gallery of shadows in the darkness of his soul and he can't help but think about how, after everything that has happened, her existence still radiates life within him like a brisk wind on a warm summer day.

He'll never regret her. He'll forever regret his decisions.

In times of solitude and remorse, he will always see her, the radiant darkness within him.

_finis._

**Epilogue or last chap to come. The object in your dreams isn't always as it seems. Til next time.**


	8. Chapter 8

_**This is it folks. You may... or may not be surprised by the conclusion. But this is what I had envisioned happening from the moment I started writing it all out. This was more than anything an experimental piece that gave me an idea what I could and couldn't handle content wise and in the end, I enjoyed writing it even though I was unsure of what I was including sometimes. I hope you enjoyed the ride and please let me know what you thought. I appreciate every one of your reviews, they seriously make my day (even the crude anons who are probably going to insert foot into mouth after this). ;) **_

_**PTB**_

* * *

_**Epilogue**_

The air is thick yet cool. The moon is bright yet dull. His skin prickles with anticipation yet it burns with guilt. As his eyes close and the miniscule silver gleams of moonlight beats against his eyelids, he takes a deep breath to quell the emotion fighting a gory battle inside of his chest.

His eyes shoot wide open and he can feel the perspiration run down the sides of his face.

He swallows back the temptation, the urge.

His back presses into the soft back of the couch, his legs spread wide open in front of him, his feet plant against the small area rug beneath the coffee table, and his hands haphazardly sprawl out next to his thighs. He can feel every nerve end in his body.

He takes a deep breath and immediately a bright vision flashes before his eyes.

_He watches as her breasts rise and fall underneath a solid white tank top._

All it'd take is a light push of his hands against the cushions to propel himself forward and off the couch in the direction of her bedroom door.

He can see her again in his mind's eye. He can feel the heat of her body just by imagining how she feels. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, he can see it in visuals blurring the lines in his mind. All it'd take is a split second to silently step in her direction and fulfill that temporary itch.

Even knowing the consequences that could very well arise, having seen them play out, he's still tempted. But then he remembers.

He remembers the ache in his chest because of two shadows dancing around behind his closed lids, remembers visualizing her sated body, tangled in the sheets with him, reliving a memory that doesn't exist.

He aches because of the never-ending phantom pains associated with losing everything. He aches because he's not supposed to think about any of this. She's his partner and he's not supposed to be in love with her.

He aches because of his wife.

_He lifts her up against the wall, pressing her into the stucco so hard he can feel the way her breaths become labored._

Taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes again, not even having realized he'd closed them, and looks at the clock blinking with neon green numbers on the small shelf next to the television set.

An hour has passed since he stepped through that door and closed his eyes to the intense feeling burrowing deeply in his veins. It still surges against his temples, though his body all the way to his toenails. The want. The need.

His eyes blink drowsily against the dimness of her living room and slowly he realizes the significance of the alternate reality his mind had just conjured up.

The paralyzing ramifications of his thoughts have restrained his body to the couch thus far, but they haven't kept his mind from wandering inside of her room, and into her once more.

He almost laughs at his situation. Everything had blurred into such a grim reality in his mind that he hadn't even realized his feet had steered him to sit in the middle of her couch. His eyes had been closed, his mind cooking up a scenario he never thought possible.

He knows he's been coming here too much. She's been everything he's needed the past few days. Everything he hadn't realized was always there right in front of him.

She'd opened her arms for him, offered him a reprieve from something she didn't really know the details of, his floundering marriage, and decided that he was important enough to let in and comfort.

His chest clenches then because of the thoughts he had just had to siphon off at the core. He can't believe he almost let his dick think for him. He does want her. He wants his partner so badly that he he'd thought up a whole mess of an encounter that she doesn't deserve.

_He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and then pulls his ring from out of his pocket, fingering the gold band between his thick appendages before looking his wife in the eyes._

Rubbing a hand down his face in frustration, he takes a deep breath and sits forward on the couch with his elbows planted on his thighs. In an hour's time, he'd thought of pressing boundaries with his partner, pressing issues formerly unspoken, pressing her into the mattress...

_Oh Jesus..._

He clenches his eyes closed tightly and debates on what he needs to do.

He's _this _close to his breaking point. And he'd seen what could happen if he steps across that threshold, in technicolor. It'd been right there before him. The act itself. The longing, the desperation, the devastation. Right there in his sub-conscience and he needs to get out of there before he combusts.

He may be able to think up scenarios like that with his partner but he can never, ever act on them like he did behind his eyelids, he vehemently decides. He could never do that to her. He respects his partner too much to ruin what they have. His wife's a good woman and doesn't deserve it either.

He needs to get out of there and clear his head.

A new feeling inside of him fills him with a different kind of tension. It feels like something he's never felt before. It's an overwhelming urge to run and fix things before he comes here again, untied, so he can work with a clean slate with her.

Standing up, he slips his shoes back on and contemplates leaving her a note, telling her that he doesn't need her to stay up late for him anymore, or to keep her chain unhooked for him any longer. But he decides against it and slips carefully out her front door, closing it tightly behind him, locking it from the inside.

He stays the rest of the night in the cribs.

. . .

It's a Friday evening and he's sitting on the couch inside his living room in Queens. His wife sits in the small armchair next to him. They don't speak, they don't touch, they just coexist.

His eyes blink lazily at the soft glow coming from the television set when he hears his wife exhale loudly. Slowly, he looks over at her and she's rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, looking lost in thought.

He clears his throat and once again he's at a loss for words. But it's time.

"Kathy..."

He watches her swallow and bring her intense blues eyes up to meet his. She nods and immediately looks down at her hands. "I know," she whispers knowingly.

"I talked to Father O'Malley."

"Oh?" She doesn't look surprised. but he feels the pounding in his chest intensify when he realizes what he's about to do. It'd been her the first time, now it's him. It's him. All him and she doesn't seem surprised. He swallows as she pushes a blonde strand of hair behind her ear and then looks at him with perceptive eyes.

"Yea. I needed some advice. Kath, the things is... I'm not sure what we're doing anymore..."

"I know," she nods and whispers quietly. "And I'm sorry about the way we've been. But that's not what this is about is it?" He shakes his head no and she nods. "I was expecting this. Just wasn't sure when. I'm glad you brought it up. I think something needs to change."

He watches her reach for the remote and suddenly the room is silent beside the soft rhythms of their slow breathing. A soft yellow-orange glow sifts through the large living room window as the sun sets and he shifts on the couch to look at her, his right leg bent beneath his body.

He's almost too eager to discuss it. To get this settled once and for all.

Swallowing, he leans his head against the arm he has perched on the back of the couch and speaks in a low voice.

"Yea, we need to talk."

. . .

Two weeks later, he's sitting at his desk across from her and they're both knee deep in files pertaining to a case of he said- she said.

Parker Morrison claims her college track coach raped her. Michael Cohen claims it was consensual.

He believes the girl, his partner isn't so sure and that's what baffles him. It's unlike her to side with the accused but she's been off lately. Not like she isn't doing her job, just, not all there.

"The girl has cuts and bruises on her thighs. And the bastard said he'd been with her the night it happened. Come on. I'm pretty sure that's reason enough to hold him."

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "I just.. I don't know. Normally, I'd be right there with you. But you know how hard it is for actual rape victims to come forward when false reports are taken seriously and then thrown out. I just want to be sure. That's all."

He nods silently and watches her go back to the report in front of her. After she sighs for about the fifth time in that many minutes he looks back up to her and she's staring back at him through the orange glow of her desk lamp.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I..," she starts. Sighing, she adds,"it's nothing."

He watches her again and feels a sudden urge to touch her, to reassure her, so he does. He does in the most innocuous of ways because they've never been good at it, but he does it all the same.

He gets up, sits on the edge of her desk and she immediately stops what she's doing and looks up at him, biting the inside of her cheek.

"What's going on? Everything okay?" he asks.

She nods and then rolls her desk chair back a fraction of an inch. "Yea. But, I could ask the same for you."

He looks down at his clasped hands in his lap and then looks back at her. The way she looks at him with genuine compassion makes him relent internally on trying compartmentalize what's going on in his personal life. He's always thrown a stone wall in between them when she showed too much concern for him.

But he's tired of being this locked up, arrogant, stoic, angry asshole that shuts her out when he really wants to talk to her. He's never understood why he lashes out at her when she's offering herself to him as a friend, an ear. So, he says it. Takes a leap in the right direction in their friendship he hopes.

"We ended it," he says so quietly he's not sure she heard. But he quickly finds out when he hears her desk chair creek and sees her standing next to him after taking the few quiet steps to stand on his side of their conjoined desks.

A few moments pass with her tapping her fingers against the surface of the desk before she takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

He looks up at her and nods and smiles sadly. "Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want to put my problems on you anymore than I have."

He hears her take a long breath through her nose and then feels the warmth of her palm on his shoulder.

"I understand," she says quietly as she bites the inside of her lower lip. "I do. I'm really sorry."

He swallows and revels in the heat of her palm scorching his skin. He tentatively looks her in the eye and raises his own palm to rest against the back of her hand. It's only a fraction of a second, but he holds her eyes the whole time as he squeezes her hand.

"I'm am too. But, it's okay. Really," he offers a soft smile.

She smiles back at him for a brief second before extracting her hand. A few moments pass and she glances at him from the corner of her eye before sitting back in her chair. "I think it's this case," she later offers him, her words concerning his earlier question on her well-being, he realizes.

It's five words but he understands. He's been stressed over his personal life and her personal life is this job. He knows. "I know," he whispers softly and turns to sit back at his own desk. Before he gets back to the files at hand, she glances up and they catch each others eye again. She smiles at him and he smiles back.

Yes, he knows.

. . .

It's been a month since they closed the Morrison-Cohen case. In the messed up world of SVU, they weren't surprised to find out the coach _was _guilty. Parker had set up a video camera in her apartment and the bastard had shown up unannounced and tried to silence her from telling them anything else about his and her last encounter.

Needless to say, Parker caught the whole thing on camera and the case had come to a close.

His partner had been glad to have caught the guy but had silently stewed on her own misstep. He had watched her agonize on how badly she had misread the young college student.

Now, they're coming back from a new case where they've just interviewed an old woman living two doors down from where a possible rape occurred. They got nothing from her because she's one step away from being full blown deaf. Plus she's a little dingy.

As they walk into the squad room, it's around eight at night and the buzz that usually permeates the bullpen is unusually quiet. Cragen comes out of his office and walks over to them.

"You get anything from Mrs. Sandoval?"

"No, Cap," Olivia speaks up. "She didn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. I'm pretty sure she should be in a home. Where's her family?"

"Yea, she didn't hear or see anything. I'm starting to think we're at a dead end on this one cap," he adds disdainfully, not wanting to let another case go cold.

Cragen sighs and stuffs his hands into his pant pockets. "Alright you two. There's nothing else for us to really do tonight. We'll continue this tomorrow. Munch and Fin are on call tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at eight. Get going," he nods at the exits.

They both nod, thankful for the reprieve. It's been a long few months for them.

In this time, Elliot's noticed his partner leaving work early on more than one occasion and he has a strong suspicion she's seeing someone.

The thought makes his chest quiver. He knows he doesn't have a right to be hurt, but he is. He's hurt that she's subtly taking control of her own life while his lies in potential ruins.

He and Kathy's divorce will be finalized in exactly one month. Needless to say, he's grateful they never fully got rid of the former documents that almost sealed the end of their marriage years ago. He's thankful for that, yet regretful it has taken this long.

His partner walks over and grabs her keys from off her desk and he has an overwhelming urge to ask her out to drinks.

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask her to come with him because he'd rather spend his evening with her over a beer or two than watch her leave and go home or God knows where while he stews in his lonely apartment.

But, he ask her something else instead. "Need a lift home?"

She looks up at him surprised and then looks down at her keys and then back at him. Sighing, she nods and walks towards him. "Yea," she smiles softly. "Thanks."

He grins lightly and nods towards toward the exits. They leave together but his heart is still on his desk as he realizes the extent of his inability to speak his mind around her.

In front of her building, he turns off his car and glances over at her. She sits silently in her seat and gazes out her window before realizing he's watching her from the corner of his eye. "Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it."

"No problem."

It's silent and she's fidgeting slightly in her seat, but when he looks at her again full on, she's looking him square in the eyes. "Want to come up? I have something that could helps us unwind. I could call you a cab later," she smiles at him.

He thinks about it. He wonders if he should suspecting what he has about her personal life, though he's pretty sure she'd kick his ass for even thinking about it. So he treads lightly. "Sure. As long as you're sure. We still have to be at work early tomorrow. I don't want to keep you up."

She grins. "Not a problem. I won't let you get plastered. You know, I only keep just enough around to take the edge off..." she trails off.

"Yea," he whispers. He does know. He knows and he wants to take it away from her. Take everything bad away from her.

His feelings for her haven't made themselves known for awhile because of all the bullshit in his own life until recently, even now. But, he wants her to take him up to her apartment. He just wants to be near her.

She smiles softly and opens her door. "Tomorrow, be prepared for the glares from Munch and Fin though. They can smell jubilation a mile away. Not sure how though," she grins as she gets out of the car. He smiles and agrees as they walk side by side up her stairs and down the hallway to her apartment.

Just as she's inserting her key into the lock, he has a moment to think about all the times he's come over and she's left the door unlocked for him. He wonders why she did. He knows she's not cold-hearted, far from it, but he wonders what kept her from putting her foot down.

He reaches over and clasps his hand over hers with the key still in the lock. He stops her from turning it and she looks back at him over her shoulder, her eyes catching his.

"Why'd you let me stay?"

"What do you mean?" she asks quietly, a hint of worry in her eyes.

"My life was near shambles and I should have been home taking care of it, fixing it, but I kept coming here to avoid it all. Why'd you let me? You should've kicked my ass out the second time I came. Maybe the first. It's not like you."

She laughs a little and turns her body towards his, resting her shoulder against the wood of the door. "I wasn't going to let you suffer, Elliot. You're my partner, my friend and I knew you needed something, somewhere," she whispers incredulously, but it barely comes off that way. She's staring at him with those dark eyes and he wants to kiss her.

He can't not think of what he'd nearly done the last time he stayed with her. But right here, in her hallway, he wants to grab her and kiss her and tell her she's everything he's ever wanted. But, once again, he turns his face toward the opposite side of the hall and then tentatively turns back.

Nodding, he swallows and lets a small smile graze his lips. "You're a great person, Liv. Better than me." He stops for a second before moving closer to her and he watches as her back stiffens. At that moment he feels the tension roll off of her for the first time and it makes his heart race.

It's that intense feeling, that kind he'd felt with her in the past when their relationship had shifted. He sees her throat rise and fall as she swallows thickly and suddenly the heat in his cheeks and chest and abdomen, intensifies and he has to think quickly. "Thank you," he whispers in front of her face.

He watches her blink slowly and nod her head. "Any time, Elliot. You're always welcome. You're my best friend." She smiles and looks down briefly before looking back to him. "Wanna go in now?"

He laughs softly and nods.

Before the door is all the way open, his phone rings. It's Munch. Off for the night his ass. Their night of taking it easy, easily turns into just another late night of taking the down the worst of the criminals SVU sees.

They forget about drinks and head off into the early evening night to apprehend a suspect who is holding three young girls hostage, girls that he had just raped. It's a long night and Elliot later wishes he hadn't stopped her for small talk in the hallway, he could've used the drink Olivia was so openly offering.

. . .

He's a free man.

Earlier that week, he'd gotten the papers in the mail and had called his ex-wife to talk to her. They were now divorced. It was final. He was a single man. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted with his free time and he didn't know how to act. He was still getting used to it.

After talking to Kathy, he felt better knowing she was taking it well. It made going out for drinks with Munch, Fin, Hernandez from the 2-8, Rhodes from Homicide and a few of Fin's Narcotic buddies, easier. The only thing missing was his partner.

He'd been so set on going out with the guys _and _Olivia when Munch brought it up earlier that week. But now as he sits in the booth with a tall pitcher of beer in the center of the table and the guys rumbling off bits of dirty jokes and teasing him about his new bachelorhood, he can't help but drift off mid conversation and think about her.

She'd left an hour before they did with her date. Her _date._He was indeed the same man he saw drop her off that night he'd first come to her. He could tell they were still getting to know each other but it didn't make the pain any less searing.

He takes a long swig of his beer and orders another. Hernandez pats him on the back and leans down to whisper in his ear. "How's that partner of yours? Thought'd she'd be here with you." Being the jokester he is, he adds on,"If I was a newly single man, hitting the scene again, I'd be looking after her, you know?" he grins at Elliot.

Elliot smiles, slightly annoyed, before clearing his throat. "She's with a date tonight," he says coolly and then drops the conversation by indicating he'd like to leave the booth. He goes to the restroom and stares at himself in the mirror. He looks aged, older, rougher. He's never noticed before but he's starting to gray at this temples and he doesn't know when he let life slip by him.

He takes a deep breath and replays the cocky cop's words in his head._ How's that partner of yours? Thought'd she'd be here with you. _

Yea, where is she?, he asks himself.

He lets himself out of the bathroom and tells the others he's leaving for the night and thanks them for the company. They all pat him on the back and say their goodbyes as he heads for the exit.

He leaves the bar and once outside, the humid summer night air hits him in the face as he heads in one direction and one direction only. He's tired, he so fucking tired.

. . .

Being an optimist has never been his thing.

Particularly because of his job. He's seen way too much shit.

But, when he gets to her apartment, he catches a glimpse of her going inside, she's just closing the door behind her. After a few moments, he hears a deep laugh come from behind him.

A couple come from the elevator and he contemplates leaving, expecting Olivia to have her date inside with her. He assumes they're at that stage where they go to each others apartment's now and the thought turns his insides to liquid.

His optimistic side hopes she's alone.

The antagonistic pessimist within him realizes he may be too late.

He takes a deep breath and stands outside of her apartment door, with his back pressed squarely against the wall, and just waits. He doesn't know what he's waiting for. He's always been a glutton for punishment, maybe he's waiting for her to laugh at mystery man or hear her moan or something.

He feels numb as it is, having the whole night to think about her and wonder what she's doing. Maybe actually hearing her do those things will make him feel something else, even if it is fire in his stomach, acid in his throat, an ache in his heart.

Standing still for long minutes, he doesn't hear or see the knob to her door move or rattle until she's staring at him face to face with the door propped open as she leans against the wooden frame.

She stands with a hand on her hip and the other positioned just above her head on the door frame. "Elliot. What are you doing?" she asks softly. "I thought you were out with the guys?" she asks with a concern that underlies the softness of her voice.

He turns his head slowly away before turning back, and he stares at her with what he suspects is tired, red eyes. "You weren't there," he offers honestly.

"Yea," she agrees. "I had plans. What're you doing? How'd you know I'd be here?" she half laughs as the question lingers between them.

"Lucky guess," he mumbles as he turns his head down the hall. Shifting on her feet, she opens the door wider and steps out and that's when he smells her.

"Yea, it was lucky."

"I left early," he says quietly as he stares down at his feet. Why is he here? Why did he feel the need to go to her apartment at all? She could have been gone for hours but he just couldn't think of anywhere else to go.

If he didn't come here he'd go home and he knows more than anyone that that's the last place he wants to be after celebrating being a single man. He just wishes she was a single woman. Maybe this would be a little less complicated... "I don't know why I came... I just guess I wasn't ready to go home," he offers.

"Well... you want to come in?" she asks shyly, motioning her head toward the inside of her apartment.

Elliot's head shoots up and his eyes narrow. "Uh," he clears his throat and then wipes his hands down his pants legs. "I'm not interrupting anything?" he asks slightly incredulous. He didn't think she'd be home alone tonight.

The training in the NYPD prepares you for almost anything, but he wasn't prepared for her to invite him inside tonight. He almost wants to push her inside by her hips and get right to it and admit, that yes, he's wanted to come inside for a long, long time.

But he won't do that. It has to be her. He'll work at her pace.

He's never been one to show his feelings, let alone speak them. But tonight may change that.

Olivia looks over her shoulder, behind her and into her apartment for a brief second before turning back to him with slightly narrowed eyes and a questioning quirk of her lips.

"No, you're not interrupting El."

_El._

He doesn't know why the use of his nickname sends a jolt into his step. In an instant, he's brushing past her and into her apartment, catching a whiff of her chamomile and vanilla body lotion, finally putting a name to her magnificent scent.

Once she closes the door behind him, he turns and quirks his brow. "How'd you know I was out there?"

"My neighbor across the hall called and said some man was pacing in front of my door wearing a hole into the carpeting. I thought it was either Shawn or ... You. I mean I don't know anyone else who paces like he's got fire ants up his ass."

He almost laughs until he unintentionally speaks the name out loud. As he follows her to the kitchen, the name breezes past his lips like a sword. "Shawn?"

She stops what's she doing and straightens her back. Standing by the counter with two beers in hand, she looks over her shoulder. "Yea. He was my date tonight."

"Oh," he nods with understanding. "He uh, didn't come back with you?"

Laughing with a small snort, she hands him the beer as she heads out into the living room with him right behind her. She answers with small huff as she plops onto the couch.

"No, Elliot. He's fun, but I think he was more interested in the stock market rather than what kind of uh, dress I had on tonight." She clears her throat and takes a long swig of her beer.

"Ahh, I understand. Why didn't you swing by the bar. We were at Maloney's."

"I was going to actually." She smiles at him from behind the tip of her bottle before sitting it down on the coffee table in front of her. "You didn't give me a chance."

He takes a sip of his own beer before nodding and then walking around, staring at the pictures spaced all about her living room. Some of them are of them, their colleagues, one has her and her mother in it. "I was missing you tonight," he lets slip as he bends down to look at a picture of them taken when it looks like they weren't paying attention. In it, he surprisingly, he has one of his hands on top of hers as she looks at something off in the distance. Probably Munch as she listened one of his ludicrous theories or jokes.

He jolts when he feels her place her hand on his back. "Elliot?"

He turns around quickly and stares down at her. He's a few inches taller than her, with his work shoes still on while she's barefoot and as she stares up at him with her does eyes, dark brown and taunting, he takes a deep breath. "What?"

"I said I was on my way. We could go back if you want. You said you left early. They might still be there. Wait, they didn't leave you hanging did they?"

He lets the beer and the hand holding it, dangle at his side as he just stares at her. "No," he says confidently. Clearing his throat, he turns toward the pictures again. "I actually left them all behind. They were having a better time than I was actually."

"Oh, I see. You sure you don't want to go back?"

"Nah."

"Okay," she acquiesces softly. "Elliot? Can I ask you something?"

The tenderness in her voice makes him turn around and she's behind him, with her arms wrapped around herself. "Yea?"

"You were missing me tonight?" she asks with a small grin.

He huffs out a breath of air as a small laugh escapes his lips. "Yea, Liv. My partner wasn't there with me. How much fun is that?" he asks jokingly.

"I don't know. I'll make sure I don't have a date the next time you get divorced?"

It was meant as a joke, he can tell by the way a smile still lingers on her face, but it hits harder than he expected. Immediately her face looks towards his and he can see the shock of her own words in her eyes. "Elliot. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"What did you mean?" he asks calmly, curiously.

"Not what it sounded like."

He believes her.

He has no intentions of dating anytime soon. Well almost no plans. He diverts his gaze and changes the subject.

Nodding, he moves toward her until their face to face as he looks into her eyes. "You said you had fun with ….?" he pretends to feign ignorance to Shawn's name.

"Shawn?" she asks. He nods. "Well, yea. He's a nice guy. He knows his way around the city. He takes me to some great restaurants. But he's just..." she stops abruptly when he scoots ever closer to her and he stares down into her eyes.

"I did miss you tonight. Because you were with him," he says breathy, the alcohol giving him all the confidence he needs in the moment without being too drunk to say what he genuinely feels.

"Elliot," she draws out, her eyes glossy and he's not sure why. "What's going on with you tonight? What's happening?" she barely whispers.

In a daze, he inches closer to her even more and slowly takes the beer bottle from her hand and sits his and hers on the coffee table.

When he turns back to her, her eyebrows are already raised and her breath has quickened considerably.

"Don't go out with him again."

"What?" she asks. "I told you….," she trails off, shaking her head, her brown, shoulder length hair grazing her toned shoulders.

"I did miss you tonight. I missed you so goddamned bad," he whispers next to her ear, his own pulse pounding in his ears. "All I could think about tonight was you. All I wanted was you. And you weren't there," he breathes deeply into her hair, the tendrils tickling his lips as he speaks.

She steps back a half an inch and he can see her throat bob up and down as she swallows thickly. Looking at her, he can see the watery drops in the crevices of her eyes intensify as she questions him with a dip of one of her neat trimmed eye brows. "I'm sorry?" she asks as her voice cracks slightly.

"Liv. Please, just don't go with him again," he starts to beg. He knows he's in deep when he feels the need to beg.

"Elliot. What're you saying? What're you doing?" she questions pleadingly as her eyes start to tear up. "You're worrying me," she adds tearfully as she tentatively cups his neck with her warm palm.

He quivers on the inside as he speaks.

"Olivia. I don't know how to say this," he starts as she takes a shuddering breath. "I had a dream. I had a dream where I ruined our relationship. I ruined everything we had and you left me," he offers with emotion in his voice. "I just want you to know, that I'd never do that to you and that I want what's best for you..." he stops unsure if he should finish his thoughts. After a brief pause, he decides to go on, all or nothing. "I want what's best for you, if it's me or someone else. And I can tell, I can tell, he's not for you."

He watches her stand speechless with her hand still embracing his neck, her eyes searching his and her mouth slightly agape. Her other hand visibly flexes and unflexes as she tries to comprehend his words he guesses.

"Elliot," she pleads again, never taking her eyes off of his. "How much have you had to drink tonight?,"she questions him as she sweeps her hand through her hair.

"Not enough if you're about to chastise me," he laughs nervously, reveling in the heat of her hand.

"I don't know what to say," she whispers as she slowly drags her palm away from his neck, letting it glide over his shoulder and upper arm before letting it fall away to her side again.

When she looks up to him with tear filled eyes, he knows he's not the only one feeling this, this thing between them. Her eyes bore into his for the briefest second before she licks her lips and turns her eyes away again.

"You don't have to say anything, just don't let yourself think I'm not sincere about this. I don't just make this kinda stuff up, Liv. You can at least say you believe me," he whispers hoarsely, his voice threatening to give out on him.

When she looks back to him, her dark eyes latching onto his, the moisture threatening to pool over causes his resolve to completely and utterly disintegrate at her feet when she answers, all of her feelings seeping through her pores.

"I could never doubt you for a second," she whispers in a tear filled voice.

In an instant, he has his hand on the back of her neck and the other on her waist as he pushes her timidly towards the wall next to her window.

Without any lights on in her apartment besides the soft glow coming from the single standing lamp, the aura around them sends chills down his spine.

The setting is perfect; it's sensual and erotic as he presses her against the wall.

As he looks down at her, he enjoys the feeling of her hands gripping his sides with her warm palms and her flesh, smooth and real as he grasps her neck gently.

"I want you," he grates into her ear as he leans down and gently kisses her earlobe. He feels her physically shake in his grasp from the contact as her breathing hitches. "I waited so long, Olivia. I waited even when I didn't want to. When I wanted to just grab you and ask what you were offering. But you mean so much more to me than that, so I waited. Please tell me it wasn't for nothing," he breathes thickly into her hair.

He feels her dig her fingers into his sides and that's when he looks down and tries to gauge her reaction, her thoughts, her feelings.

When his gaze locks with hers, he's shocked by what he sees.

She's crying. Silently, but the tears are rolling down her cheeks and down her neck. "Olivia?"

She cries softly into her hand. "I've waited too," she whispers through her tears. "I'm sorry, this is so... I'm surprised is all," she offers shakily.

"What?" he asks softly, not completely understanding but hoping she means this moment is as big as he'd always imagined.

"You. Just... you. Everything you do is so ... I can't imagine feeling this way with anyone else. You're so intense. So full of love, so full of life and I can't shake it. I want more of it, Elliot," she whispers, staring at him with her glossy eyes, pleading with him to give her that much.

He understands and he wants her to understand the full extent of his feelings for her.

"Olivia," he starts, trying to sound as calm and collected as he can. "I know what I'm saying. I just want you to know, you're all I think about when I go to bed, when I stare the ceiling, when I dream. You're everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I don't know why I decided tonight was the time to lay this on you but I couldn't wait anymore. God knows, I suck at sharing my feelings, but here I am. I just want you to know I care about you so damned much and I just want you to be happy." There, maybe giving voice to what's been swirling around his mind for so long will take the stress off of admittedly confessing he wants her so goddamned bad it hurts.

"I am happy," she smiles through tears. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He lets his breath go and silently slinks away into himself. She's happy. He's glad. He's glad because he doesn't know what to feel anymore. She doesn't really need him but he's here when she does. It's all he can do for her now.

"I'm glad. Really. Olivia. You deserve to be," he whispers into the gray dimness and only now does he see the tinges of silver and gold from the street lamp down below her window he was too distracted before to see.

After a moment more, he nods. He swallows and starts to pull back. When he does, he feels her hands move from his sides and clamp down on his forearms.

"Where're you going?"

"I don't know," he shakes his head because he doesn't know. He feels lighter for finally telling her. But he doesn't feel one hundred percent relieved.

"Stay," she whispers between them. "I want you to stay dammit."

"Why," he asks looking up.

"Because. You're standing in my living room. Telling me these things you feel. You're a free man, Elliot. You can stay and I want you to. Don't you realize I'm happy with you right here?," she whispers with intensity.

He takes a deep breath and stares at her few moments, his eyes locked on hers. "You sure?"

"Any way I can have you."

Her voice sounds like a gentle melody that sends a sense of calm throughout his body. Their meaning so much more than he could ever ask for from her and it makes him weak.

In three quick steps, his skin is on hers again. He presses her back against the wall and hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Both breathe heavily into the confined space between their bodies before either speak. Ever cautious, as he's been for the better part of their relationship, he gently lifts his fingers and swipes her hair from her eyes, which are still wet and swollen.

"Kiss me," she orders him softly. "I want you to."

He stares her in the eyes and hesitates for a brief second before he sees a light flicker in the glossiness of her brown eyes. Want. Need. After that, he doesn't need to be told twice.

He presses his lips against hers tightly, and doesn't breathe the entire time. He moves his hands up and cups the side of her head, his pinky fingers gently grazing the nape of her neck as she starts to move her lips against his.

Olivia opening her mouth to him has never been so appealing he thinks. He gently opens his own and breathes her in as she laves his bottom lip with her tongue.

Their mouths move against the other for what feels like hours. His hands glide up and down her arms, her sides, her cheeks, her neck and he feels her manicured nails trail over his own body, sending shockwave after shockwave of pure heat through him as she cradles his form against hers as he holds her up against the wall with his waist.

It's pure fascination with each other that keeps them tangled against the wall, it's an exploration of a treasure they've always been able to look at but never touch before. Their lips on each others lips is like a song he's never known all the words to until now.

He feels everything coming together as the softness of her lips touch his own and after the dreams he's had of her filter in and out of his brain, he realizes nothing could compare to the feeling transforming him right now.

He revels in the feel of her pulling his bottom lip in between her own and soothing it with her tongue. She moans into his mouth when he runs his calloused hands beneath the back of her shirt and he compartmentalizes that sound for the future.

He immediately feels her skin prickle with goosebumps and it makes him wild. Before he knows it, he's holding her head still with his palms.

Hesitantly, he pulls back and they both gasp for breath. "Olivia. I'm not perfect. I don't know what the hell I'm doing sometimes, but I know one thing for sure. I've always known you. Needed you. And right now...this... this is all I need. To be here with you."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shuddering in his arms and then lays her head against his shoulder. "I love everything about you. Please don't change for me." She smiles up at him and runs her index finger down his chest and then nuzzles her face into his neck.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he laughs softly as he pulls her from the wall and carries her to the couch after sitting with his back against the arm of the couch and letting her body relax ontop of his "Are you worried?"

"About?"

"Us?"

"Sure. We have so many things to figure out. But to be honest, I don't care right now. I could care less if the apartment was burning down around us."

"Oh, so you'd jump through fire with me, then?"

"Only if you do the same," she laughs softly into his chest.

"Well, we'll see when the time comes," he laughs jokingly and kisses the top of her head.

She rises slightly of him and narrows her eyes at him before lightly smacking his chest. "You ass," she grins.

"I know."

"You are."

"I know."

She laughs. "Elliot. I know this is something new and exciting for us. But what about work?" she ask more quietly.

He hesitates for a few moments before he takes his thimble fingers and places tiny strands behind her ear, one at a time, before answering. He's always thought of this job being his way of protecting children and women.

It was his way of knowing he was keeping his family safe. But with Olivia, he knows the unit is her life. Her passion. He still has his kids, but they're all grown with the exception of Eli. And he'll always be around Kathy in some form but she's not the center of his world anymore.

It hits him with instant clarity.

"I'll take coming home in the pitch darkness of night, weary from head to toe, hoping like hell I don't get called in on the way home, if it means I'm coming home to you every night."

She's silent for a few minutes, then he feels her release a deep breath.

"I don't know if I'm ready to end our partnership. I'm not ready to leave SVU."

"Okay... We can see if Cragen will switch us up with Munch and Fin."

"I don't know. I don't want to do that to them."

"I guess it'll be another one of those, 'We'll see when the time comes,' kind of things."

"Yea, I guess."

"We'll figure it out."

"Yea."

She turns her head inwards and kisses his clothed chest before moving her body up his. She gently wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, long, hard, deeply, and contentedly. He sighs inwardly when she moans into his mouth as his hands slip under her top again and scrape his short nails down her soft back.

Breaking away from her kiss, he lean his head back and just feels the way her lips skim down his chest over his t-shirt. He feels a small smile tug at his lips as she fists his fabric in her hands. She continues to lay light, playful kisses against him, when he speaks.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Silence. Then suddenly a loud boisterous laugh escapes her lips and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. He looks down at her and she's staring up at him with a glint in her eye.

It's not perfect. It never will be. But being with her, having her next to him for this part of his life will be what makes this chapter radiate in significance above the rest, next to the births of each of his kids.

His kids will visit, they'll have to get used to him bringing Olivia home every night, or most nights. He'll have to adjust to Olivia's insecurities in relationships, being around his kids who may or may not accept everything in their mother and father's new lives.

He's been tempted to tread down that road of destruction. He's fought against the best of his demons when it comes to Olivia and his life. But knowing after everything he's been through, that she still wants him, he realizes one thing. Their relationship will not be rainbows and butterflies, they'll butt heads, they'll fight, they'll make up and they'll do it all over again.

But they'll work. They'll always find their way back to one another.

He's going to fight like hell not to fuck this up with her. She deserves more than him and he'll forever fight the fight to be enough for her.

All he knows in this moment as she breathes against him, drifting off into the sleep that's threatening behind his own eyelids, is that you won't know what the best in life can bring unless you fight to find the right path and listen to your heart.

But most importantly, he's learned that magnificent opportunities come to those who wait.

She'll always be worth the wait, he realizes as he gazes down at the top of her head as she breathes softly in her slumber against his chest.

_I love you._

finis.


End file.
